


Arya Stark in the Discworld

by Marcus_S



Series: Arya Stark's Multiverse [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: humour [hopefully]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcus_S/pseuds/Marcus_S
Summary: This is Arya Stark beyond the Sunset Sea Version 3, hopefully the title makes it clear where she’s going. There’s no repeat of the first 13-15 chapters of the two previous versions, although I assume that it all happened, so if you haven’t read either of them you can go and read Version 2 up to the chapter Storm, but assume no dismasting if you feel you need to.
Series: Arya Stark's Multiverse [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779334
Comments: 22
Kudos: 10





	1. Well here we are then

**Author's Note:**

> All the usual about the characters and Terry Pratchett and GRR Martin but otherwise the story is © Marcus Stanson 2021

It had been an educational voyage. Arya had boarded the Petrel a somewhat more than mildly psychopathic, angry young woman. Three months on board with only a couple of days break in Oldtown, to make an essential modification to her half of the rear cabin and translate the chest full of what she considered useless clothing Sansa has had loaded on board for her into coin, had however changed her. She learned that a ship cannot be sailed by one person alone and that thus teamwork has value. She learned that although the sea and the weather are out to kill you every day you sail, you can’t fight them; you have to learn to use them, but most importantly she learned that there were people who seemed to care about her for no better reason than that she was around. She realised that she didn’t understand people, whether due to growing up in a disturbing manner or some innate personality trait. She thus decided to investigate people as much as geography on her travels.

As far as the sailing went it had been an uneventful voyage for 80% of the way. Arya took being attacked by a sea serpent in her stride, it was dead, she moved on. However in the last week they had been hit by three tropical storms in succession. The skipper had admitted he was amazed that the Petrel had survived all three unscathed, but it had and here they were sailing towards a pair of sizeable gates in a city wall.

The skipper had a few concerns, which he was discussing with Arya as they approached the city.

“The third storm, I’ve never seen lightening that sort of purplish colour, normally it’s blue/white and we came out of the third storm in a temperate climate despite the fact that we went in in the tropics. There’s something funny going on”.

“The weather is….”

“Yes, and just you remember who taught you that”

“Oh I’m unlikely to forget, like privy training it will stay with me forever”.

“See you’re even developing a sense of humour”.

“Only in the eyes of someone with as warped and twisted a mind as you”.

“We’ve spent three months in the same cabin and you’ve not taken your knife out to me once; you know you really quite fancy me”.

Arya doubled up with laughter, “If this is your last trip, you could always get a job as a player, you’d have a crowd in stitches as soon as you opened your mouth”.

“Well maybe this isn’t my last trip, we’re here, you’re about to get off and go and explore. Unless you decide quite quickly to sail up or down the coastline we’re all redundant, so we might as well find some cargo and get on with what we all consider a normal life. Now how are you going to get us into harbour”.

Arya realised she needed to think about the first statement but the second, the question, didn’t give her time. They were approaching the gates on a hard tack running as tight into the wind as a single square sail and a round hull would let you. Unless they were unbelievably lucky the ship would lose way the moment they came to the entrance and had to change course. There was a ship ahead of them obviously also heading into the same gate so it had to be a workable solution. “Well since the ship ahead’s heading in there can’t be a strong current outflowing at present, in fact if he’s a local it’s probably an incoming tide so one answer is we just drift in, but the other is we need the ships boat out to give us a pull, particularly if we need to swing round to find a berth”.

“So”

Arya put a whistle to her lips and blew two shrill blasts, “All hands!”, bodies started to appear from the fo’c’sle “Poitr get the boat over the side, Elog get a cable up for a tow line”. There were calls of ‘aye’ and within ten minutes the ship’s boat was in the water alongside with a suitable cable attached.

As the gate approached Arya looked at the skipper, who left his response just a long enough to see the look on her face that said ‘it’s time you took charge’, “I have the con”,

“You have the con” and Arya stepped over to the tiller bar to assist the crewman if he needed it. Since the man on the tiller was Haerd a 6 foot 4 inch man of considerable bulk and the wind was light this was unlikely, but it gave her the opportunity to watch the skipper and tillerman at work.

The gate came to within a couple of boat lengths and it was obvious the course of the river through the city required a turn.

“Hard to larboard”

“Hard to Larboard” the tiller went over and the ship turned, as it did the sail went slack.

“Drop the sail”, sheets were released and the mast slid down to the deck, they were drifting forward losing way but still making progress through the gate. The space was wide enough for a ship three times their beam and it was obvious watching bits of flotsam in the water that the tide was indeed running in. That didn’t stop the skipper walking over to the side.

“Cast off”, from the tiller Arya had to imagine the boat pulling away from the side taking the lead and the slack on the cable until like a little water beetle ahead of them it would be pulling the ship. They passed through the walls and it was plain there were docks on both sides of the river. Their present course put them nearest one on their starboard bow.

“Arya get forrard and make sure the boat knows we’re going to starboard”.

“Aye, skipper” and Arya ran down the length of the deck to the fo’c’sle, up the steps and right to the bow. Now she could see the boat pulling firmly straight ahead “Boat Ahoy”, Piotr on the tiller turned to look at her “Bear starboard” and to reinforce the message she pointed towards the dock entrance the skipper wanted. The tiller went over in the boat and it turned into the entrance. Arya took a look at the approaching opening, turned back towards the skipper and tillerman “Hard a Starboard” and waved a hand over her head. She saw Haerd look at the skipper, he nodded and the tiller went over. Once they were in the dock the tidal flow was lost and it took the boats crew all their effort to get the Petrel alongside, but finally they bumped up against the dockside and Arya went over the side with a hawser for the bows.

She looped the hawser over the bollard on the dockside and stood up to look round, ‘Woa!’ the dock seemed to roll as she stood there. Elog was waving at her from the waist of the ship with a plank to put down so she went and grabbed the far end, settled it in place and ran back on board. The skipper was stood on deck as she arrived “That was strange, it was like the dock was moving”.

He laughed “That’s what months at sea does for you, it’ll wear off eventually but for now wherever you walk on land you’ll roll and everyone in a city like this will immediately mark you as a sailor. That’s your badge for now Arya, deep sea sailor, try not to besmirch it too much with your behaviour”.

“You mean don’t get roaring drunk, pick knife fights and try and sexually molest any woman, girl or small boy who comes within reach of my hands”.

“I’ll forgive you the rest it’s the knife fights I’m worried about”.

“You needn’t I won’t lose”.

“That’s what worries me, nothing reduces local hospitality like one of my crew killing people and we’re stuck here. Don’t come running back aboard shouting, ‘get us out to sea fast’, because it isn’t going to happen, we’re going to need the tide and just the right breeze or a couple of boat loads of locals pulling us”.

“Well it will be a test of your powers of persuasion then won’t it Marcus. Have three months been enough time for you to tame the savage killer that was Arya Stark on the dockside at King’s Landing”.

Marcus didn’t laugh and Arya realised that he wasn’t taking her good behaviour as a given, which was worrying because he’d spent the whole trip playing up everything that he found was good about her and downplaying all her faults. Arya did her best to sound less flippant, “I’ll try not to let you down”.

“Good, because…”

“Yes I know ‘I’ll be letting myself down’. As you said earlier, the best proof that I’ve a better control on my murderous urges than I used to is that I haven’t knifed you for endlessly repeating that sort of drivel”.

“You have a point. Now since no one has come to see us I propose to get everyone a meal on board and a rest. You won’t be on the dock watch rota so you’re at liberty to come and go as you please. I feel I have discharged my contract with your sister and delivered my passenger safe and sound”.

“Then I’m going ashore to find a tavern, you’re clearly right pickled cabbage is good for our health, but I’m sick of it. In fact it would be nice to think that cabbage doesn’t exist here”, Arya was to be sorely disappointed on this score; in years to come the sight of the Sto Plains would give her nightmares.

“Obviously I shan’t sail off without discussing it with you, but it is just possible someone will turn up and insist we move berth, so if we’re not here when you come back just work your way round the other docks ‘til you find us”.

“What if you’re across the river”.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a ferry row across behind us and if not there have to be bridges. Have you got any money”.

“Ah good point, let’s hope what we’ve got is worth something”.

“Gold’s always worth something”.

Arya disappeared into her cabin and came back out with a single dragon, and for the first time in months, her rapier, Needle, attached to her waist. She was idly flipping the dragon in the air as she walked down the gang plank. “Until later then skipper, I’m only going for a decent meal I’ll probably be back in less than an hour”.

“Have fun and be careful”.

“Oh I will”.


	2. Welcome to town, now give us your money

Cripple Wa nudged Blind Hugh in the ribs, “Will you look at that”.

“Only with extreme difficulty”.

“Bloody tourists, there ought to be a warning on the River Gate. ‘Don’t tempt the thieves by spinning gold coins in the air on the quayside’”.

“Struck down by altruism in your old age are you”.

“Professional standards, those with money have a duty to make it difficult for those of us without to relieve them of it”.

“Why”.

“Well where would we be if they didn’t. If we all had the same amount of money we couldn’t despise the rich and then where would the fun be in life”.

“So I deduce that we have another Two Flower situation and we both know that didn’t end well”.

“The young lad incautiously exhibiting a large gold coin, well let’s say there’s not enough of him to provide a troll with a decent meal”.

“Small is he”.

“Not even five foot tall and slender as a wand, pretty boy face too, not so much as a hint of stubble”.

“He couldn’t by any chance be a she”.

“Nah, total lack of fruitful attachments, no melons, cantaloupes, oranges not even satsumas. Also he’s carrying a little pizzle of a sword, more like a bodkin that a proper weapon, but enough to spoil your or my day if inserted into us”.

“Move with the times Wa, the female of the species carry weapons these days, and I’m not just referring to the dwarves, there’s Constable Angua of our renowned city watch”.

Wa winced at the mention of Constable Angua. He was of the opinion that the constable was a lot more dangerous off duty than when using the regulation issue watch short sword; an item who’s quality was a direct reflection of the watch’s requirement for the supplier to keep the price within limits set by Lord Vetinari, not a man noted for his fiscal generosity. “I’m sticking with my first opinion, it’s some young lad from a privileged background been sent on a trip abroad for his gap year”.

“Gap Year, what’s a Gap Year”.

“Now who’s behind the times, young persons of class today take a year out between their education and the commencement of their duties, ruling, reigning, demanding taxes and generally oppressing the poor. It’s like going Viking but with less violence and pillaging and hopefully the sex is more consensual. They are encouraged to travel and without actually lowering themselves to the level of work, to experience the lives of those below them”.

“So that would be living like us then”.

“Pardon”.

“Well we’ve never done a day’s work between us”.

“You speak for yourself; I put considerable effort into my craft”.

“You sit there and hope someone will throw you a penny”.

“Ah but before I take my seat I spend considerable time and effort creating the appropriate effect of a body damaged beyond any hope of engaging in productive effort”.

“Which you achieve largely by failing to wash, yourself or your clothes and tying one leg up to look like half of it is missing”.

“And is that not sufficient”.

“Judging by the lack of a tinkling sound”, here Hugh lifted Wa’s begging bowl and shook it “I would argue not”.

Wa felt the need to change the subject. “Returning to the matter of the boy, here he comes now. Spare a copper or two for a blind beggar and a cripple young man”. Wa waved his bowl in the direction of the passing lad.

Arya stood on the quayside, the sea was still an odour in the mix, but the smell of horse dung was overpowering. She remembered on her first day on the Petrel complaining about the smell of salt, ah well, ‘water under the keel’. She looked down at the two beggars and tried very hard not to laugh out loud. The cripple had clearly tied his lower leg up and the muscles around the eyes of the blind man were twitching in a way only required if you needed to locate and focus on an object. Still she and Marcus had agreed that part of her new life in this strange city, whatever it was called, required her to be a more charitable, less confrontational person, so she straightened her face and responded as best she could “I’m afraid I have a come ashore with no small change gentlemen but when I return to the ship later I am sure I shall have some for you; particularly if you can guide me to a nearby tavern suitable for a guest to this city”.

It was Hugh who answered “You want the Groaning Platter, up Rumpty St” here he pointed rather accurately behind him ”Then left on Morpork St and it’s almost immediately on your right. Rerpf, the man who runs it, is also Vice-Chair of the Guild of Tourists so he can offer you all sorts of useful advice, but I have to warm you that the little coin you had a minute ago won’t go far in this city. I hope you’ve got a few more on the boat”.

Arya ignored the obvious fish about the amount of money she’d brought with her and focused on an unknown word. “I’m sorry the Guild of Tourists, would you explain that please”.

“A tourist is a visitor who is here simply to look at the fair city and not invade and subjugate it, engage in mercantile, or other less respectable activities”.

“Ah, that makes me a tourist then. Well thank you gentlemen. As I said I shall remember you on my return” and suiting actions to words Arya started to head in the indicated direction, but was stopped by a question from Hugh.

“Just to improve my education young’un, your accent confuses me, where do you hail from”

“Westeros” and finding Hugh requested no further details Arya continued on her way.

As soon as she was out of sight in Rumpty St Hugh looked at Wa “Ever heard of Westeros”

“No but Geography’s not my strong point”.

“I don’t need to know where it is, I just know the name doesn’t strike a chord. Now I think your best profit Wa me’lad is to find Ymor. A boat’s not the easiest place to remove coin from, but he’ll want to know. In the mean time I need to ensure my friend in high places is aware of our guest from Westeros, on the principle that he is good at geography and will know where it is and whether he is inclined to encourage tourists from the place”. So saying Hugh put his hand onto the wall to guide him and walked off.

Wa contemplated for a minute the value of remaining in character as he went to find Ymor and realising that he might end up walking all the way to the Thieves Guide gave it up quite quickly. Slipping his leg free he trotted off along the river side to ensure he didn’t meet the young lad en route.

Arya reached the Groaning Platter without any difficulty, but arrived in a state of some confusion. While Westeros wasn’t the most cosmopolitan society, she’d been to Braavos where people from many other lands met and as a result she considered herself familiar with the natural variations one might encounter in the human form. She had however passed a group of a dozen people the size of Tyrion Lannister, then a woman wrapped in a mass of heavy clothing and large hat possessed of such pale skin Arya had trouble envisioning any blood being behind the skin and finally two men of unbelievable height and girth, who were either covered in dust from their labours or possessed of a most peculiar skin.

By comparison the occupants of the Groaning Platter seemed positively normal so she approached the simple bench that served as a receptacle for some flagons of ale and plates of food and requested of the man behind it a meal and a small beer. These items being provided she removed the coin “I hope you have some silver, I’m afraid this is the smallest coin I’ve brought with me”.

The smile that split Rerpf’s face was the width of the River Ankh and considerably faster moving, “Don’t you worry son, I have a solution to your problem. You’ll be a tourist won’t you”.

“I’ve been told that’s the correct term yes”.

“Then you’ll need a room and will be staying a while. You give me the coin and I’ll note your credit on the slate over there”, he indicated a large thin slab of rock nailed to the wall with writing on it “and you just have a room and eat and drink here and we’ll knock the appropriate amount off each day. My rates are on the top so you can see I’m not robbing you. As Vice Chair of the Tourist Guild I’ve worked hard to ensure that foreign visitors don’t feel they’re being robbed blind while they’re here”.

Arya walked over to the piece of slate. There was a conversion rate from gold coins by size to silver dollars and room and meal rates in dollars below that. Arya did some mental arithmetic, mentally thanking Marcus for improving her maths by making her do navigation calculations, and came to the conclusion she could live here for about a month on a single coin and feed the crew for a week on another. After some discussion Arya had persuaded Marcus that she was safer on her own than as she put it “Nursemaiding a dozen old codgers” and they’d agreed she would pay for their food until they found some cargo to resume what they considered their ‘normal’ business. “That seems satisfactory" and she removed the coin and passed it to him while casting a quick look round the room to see who might be taking a more than normal level of interest in her. Sadly the answer was everyone in the room, so she put her hand on Needle and loosened the blade in the scabbard. The effect was largely satisfactory; most of them suddenly discovered an interest in the contents of their tankards or plates. A couple took an extra second or two to size her up and Arya memorised their faces, but even they lost interest and returned to their drinking.

Rerpf noted her change in pose, “You’re safe enough in here, Sorry I didn’t catch your name”.

“Arya, Arya Stark”.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Arya. You’re obviously not a local so may I enquire as to where you’ve come from and are you the first of a large number likely to visit, because if so I may be able to offer you free bed and board for some advice as to what services your countrymen might enjoy most, so we can adequately prepare for their arrival”.

Arya contemplated the idea, particularly the timescale “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. For now I am the only likely visitor, apart from the crew of the ship I arrived on who are planning to resume trading as soon as they can”. She noticed Rerpf’s smile lessened somewhat “But I certainly intend to stay here a significant time and if you services are satisfactory I’m sure you will find me a more than adequate customer”. That seemed to mollify him.

“Well you sit down and enjoy your meal, while I get a room prepared for you. I’ll bring you some brochures about local attractions to read. There are a lot of things to see in Ankh-Morpork, but I’ll start with some of the most common and you can advise me what you enjoyed and we can tailor your visits after that”.

“Thank you”. Arya sat down to eat somewhat bemused, Mentally she’d prepared for many different possible arrivals, obviously a hostile one, also an uninhabited land, strange people’s she couldn’t understand, but to step off the ship and be greeted in the way she had seemed the strangest and one she had not expected. The Groaning Platter lived up to its name, the food was edible and the portion was large so that by the time she had finished Arya could feel her belly bulging in a way it hadn’t for nearly three months. Rerpf had returned with a series of small pieces of paper extolling a number of locations and a map of the city for which he had charged her a dollar. Arya spread the map out on the table and realised that the city wasn’t as massive as King’s landing, but that it was nevertheless a place she wasn’t going to explore in a day. She was just wondering about asking Rerpf if he would make some suggestions when the daylight from the door as cut off by the arrival of a large man.


	3. The Long Arm of the Law

Captain Ironfoundersson surveyed the clientele of the Groaning Platter. For the Shades this was an up-market establishment, Rerpf had made money fairly honestly out of visitors from the Agatean empire and his inn reflected the fact; only a couple looked nervous at the arrival of an officer of the Watch. Ah, there he was, exactly as described by Blind Hugh, Carrot always mentally called him ‘mildly visually impaired Hugh’, but it was too much of a mouthful when speaking to him; anyway the boy was standing at a table looking at a map of the city, something Carrot was sure was the sign of a tourist in more than just Ankh-Morpork. Carrot was right, across the whole of the multiverse there were only two significant places where the concept of tourist was understood that a map was not a universal signal, one was the Restaurant at the End of the Universe because the when was the issue not the where and the other the notorious prison Chateau D’If because once you’d arrived you weren’t going anywhere else.

Carrot realised his shadow was cutting the light from the boy’s map and was thus unsurprised when the lad looked up at him. What did surprise him was his response. The lad cocked his head sideways, if Carrot hadn’t had a very limited upbringing he’d have realised he was being ‘eyed up’. Carrot realised there wasn’t going to be a fight and removed his helmet, the universal policeman’s signal for ‘I’m not going to hit you for now’. 

Arya had been at sea for months in the company of a bunch of very old men and the sight in front of her was just a bit too tempting not to have a bit of an ogle. Tall, he had to be two inches bigger than Sandor had been or Heard was, with a mass of red hair sprouting from under his helmet, built like what Marcus would prefer her to call ‘a brick outhouse’. He was wearing what was obviously a uniform, including armour, helmet, truncheon, sword and a badge on his chest. He was also looking at her so she reasoned this was the representative of local authority come to check up on the newcomer. It hadn’t taken them long, she idly wondered if it was the ‘blind’ one or the ‘lame’ one who’d let them know. Still she had nothing to fear, she was just, what did they call it, yes ‘a tourist’. “Good day Ser, may I help”, remembering Marcus injunction to ‘be nice to people’ she stuck out her hand and gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile.

Carrot grasped the proffered hand and shook. It certainly wasn’t a soft pampered hand and the shake was firm, the grin on the boy’s face was however slightly puzzling, it seemed to go on for just that bit longer than necessary and he had very open eyes. Anyway to business “Yes I’m Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson of the Ankh-Morpork city watch, I believe you’ve recently arrived at the Pearl Harbour. May I enquire where you’ve arrived from”.

“Yes, Westeros, a long way east of here, about six thousand miles my skipper tells me”.

Well mostly he spoke perfectly adequately ……… although his accent was a bit odd, but ‘east’, had he misheard him, and six thousand miles, that was enough to take you off the edge of The Disc. Carrot didn’t recognise the name Westeros either, but he wasn’t strong on big geography, now the tunnels of the Ramtops and the streets of Ankh-Morpork he knew like the lines on the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry lad but is east hubwise or turnwise or what”.

Well it had to happen Arya was staggered she’d got so far without any language problems. You sail six thousand miles you expect to be waving your hands around a lot and even that can be risky, the use of one more or less digits can make so much difference. “I’m not sure, maybe if you show me a map of the world we can sort it out. I think we may be using different words for the same thing”.

A woman in identical uniform to Carrot stepped from behind him. Her face looked a lot less friendly and there was something about her, Arya couldn’t put a finger on it, not a look almost a scent that was familiar but also slightly hostile. She had thick pale grey to white hair with a few back streaks in it, it was short and not cut that way more just naturally, what was the word Arya wanted yes furry .

“You’ve got the map of the city it’s quite simple”. and she pointed her way round the map “Hubwise, Turnwise, Rimwise, Widdershins”.

Arya looked at the map found the Pearl Dock where they’d landed, mentally orientated herself and pointed.

“You can’t have come six thousand miles in that direction you’d have fallen over the rim, or more to the point you’ve come from beyond the rim which isn’t possible, unless you remember flying through the air and landing with a splash”.

The woman was getting quite sarcastic and Arya found the smell was getting stronger, give her another minute and she’d put her finger on where she knew it from. In the mean time she kept quiet about over the edge, she knew the world was a sphere but obviously these people didn’t and she didn’t want to upset them for no good reason. “Maybe my mile is a differently length to yours. I’m not the ship’s master, maybe you need to talk to him. Funnily that idea seemed quite attractive to the woman. “Yes, come on Captain, far more sense to talk to the ship’s crew”.

Carrot was confused, Angua could be prickly, but why had she taken against the young lad so quickly, he was young and just a bit confused in a foreign country, but his orders were also clear it was the tourist they were to interview and if necessary take back to the Yard to meet the Commander, who would decide if he was to be taken to see the Patrician. “I’m afraid my orders were clear Sergeant, it’s the young man the Commander is interested in”.

“Well then let’s get him back to the Yard and hand him over”.

Carrot did some maths, no it wasn’t the wrong time of the month, so why was Angua so irritable. “Would you mind coming with us. I appreciate it may be a nuisance, but with you being from somewhere fairly unknown my boss just wants to ask you a few questions”.

Arya recognised the form, ‘ask you a few questions’ could mean a wide range of things but somehow she didn’t think this man was dangerous. He radiated an aura of fairness and decency. Actually he radiated another aura entirely but this wasn’t the time to revisit her attraction to large men. “Come on then, I’ve eaten so I’ve the rest of the day to see the sights, or help you out, lead on”.

Carrot looked at Angua, who still didn’t seem particularly mollified by the lad’s easy acquiescence to their request and waved for her to lead out of the door. As they left he turned to Rerpf who had been hovering on the edge of the conversation. “I’m sure Arya will be back in time for supper and if anyone from her ship comes in just tell them to pop down to The Yard”. Rerpf’s face said that however mostly honest he might be he still wasn’t going to recommend a visit to the watches headquarters to anyone, but Carrot let it ride and followed Angua and the tourist out of the door. Rerpf folded up the map, if he played his cards right he could charge her another dollar for it tomorrow

It wasn’t that long a walk but Arya had been stuck on a ship for a while so there were a few muscles that hadn’t had the right sort of exercise. Neither of the Watch seemed to be in a chatting mood and the woman was still smouldering over something.

They crossed the river and came to a large square with a very ornate building in the middle. Carrot waved at it “Not my taste, but the Opera House is one of the city’s cultural centres”. Since Arya had no idea what opera was she kept quiet. The arrived at a building marked ‘Watch House’ and went in. Down a couple of corridors, knock on a door and into a room. On the opposite side behind a desk a slightly portly elderly man [well elderly to Arya, which probably actually meant ‘over thirty’], who stood up when they came in. Same uniform but with more gold, Carrot saluted, clearly this was the boss. Carrot started the conversation, “Arya Stark, commander, he claims to have come from six thousand miles turnwise by rimwards”, then he turned to Arya “Commander Vimes of the City Watch”.

Arya observed a man who had had a hard life, but who was now enjoying better times. The uniform was the standard you’d expect for the senior officer, but the round weather-beaten face over it and the minor details of how it was worn, the very old truncheon that was far from the shape it had been on the day of issue said “Do not mess me about”.

“Thank you Carrot, you two don’t need to wait. I’ll get Nobby to escort Arya back to the Groaning Platter when we’re finished”.

\------------------------------------------------

Carrot and Angua left. Carrot had barely got the door shut before Angua hit him. “What”.

“Don’t you what me and don’t pretend either, just because she’s pretending to be a boy you can go along with it in public if you like, but making puppy eyes back at her is not on”.

Whole essays on male psychology could have been written on the facial expression of Carrot at that moment. When he’d collected his wits he looked at Angua “A woman, you’re joking, he’s just a lad too young to shave”.

Angua tapped her nose “He’s a she, quite possibly a young she but old enough to be looking at you with interest in her eyes”. She stopped and examined the hurt face in front of her “You really didn’t notice did you. Sometimes you’re too good for this job, far far too innocent and trusting”.

Carrots brain was catching up fast, “Ah, yes the wide open eyes, the strong eye contact. She didn’t seem upset when I referred to her as lad”.

“Well she’s either actively trying to pretend to be a boy, or she just takes it as indicative of the stupidity of the local male population”.

Carrot’s face had gone to a colour almost matching his hair. “Uh, sorry”.

Angua’s angry face slipped “I should have known better than to suspect you of anything, you’re so inherently honest you couldn’t do it deliberately. Her I’d not be so sure about”.

“Should we go back in and tell the commander”.

“No I suspect Sam’s savvy enough to work it out for himself. I’ve a better idea, let’s go and talk to the crew, see how far they think they’ve come. I suspect she’s a competent liar, but a bunch of sailors, I think we’ll find out what they really think”.

Realising he might have some work to do on the domestic front Carrot didn’t argue and the two of them went back to the docks.


	4. I’m in charge here and other matters of lesser importance

Back in Sam Vimes' office Arya sat down while Sam rummaged along a shelf.

“Ah here we are, map of The Disc”, he brought out a rolled sheet and laid it out on the desk in front of Arya, “Now young lady”

“You’ve noticed”.

“Captain Ironfoundersson is a man of many strengths and virtues, but if he has a fault it is that he sees what he expects to see. Sergeant Angua having sniffed you out will be enlightening him as we speak. When next he sees you he will be deeply embarrassed so please be understanding. I assume that the way you dress you are not bothered if the mistake is made”.

“There are times when it is advantageous”.

“I’m sure there are”.

“When you said Sergeant Angua would have sniffed me out; you meant that literally didn’t you. About half way here I realised where I’d smelt her before”.

“The watch is an equal opportunities employer in very many ways. I have yet to find a species present in Ankh-Morpork that doesn’t have a skill we can use in some way, my skill is simply to work where is the best fit”.

“Several species, so not everyone in Ankhh-Morpork is human”.

“Good heavens no, we’ve dwarves, werewolves, trolls, vampires and several other types of the undead. If you aren’t broad minded you’ll find us a bit of a challenge. Now please how do you _think_ you got here”.

Arya stood up and consulted the map and drew a rough line with her finger. As she did it she realised they should have passed and seen several large islands on the way. “Except that we’ve been sailing for two months and all we’ve seen is three tiny little islands”.

“And six thousand miles, which seems reasonable for two months at sea takes you off the edge of the map. Do you think the world is a disc or a sphere Miss Stark”.

“Arya please commander”.

“Well then it’s Sam”.

“I’ve sailed far enough to be convinced it’s a sphere”.

“Interesting because there are people here in the city who have been over the edge of the rim of our disc. We seem to have something unusual happening. I’m sorry Arya but I must ask you to come and see some more people”.

“That’s ask as in ‘I’m being nice please don’t say no’ isn’t it”.

“I suspect that at this point you’re probably as keen as I am to have someone give you a good explanation of this. One of the men we’re going to see may just be able to do so”.

“Fair enough, lead on then”, as they left the building a thought occurred to Arya “It isn’t far is it; only after so long at sea even a short walk is proving tiring”. By this time they’d gone forty yards and turned a corner into a broad thoroughfare.

Vimes pointed “That large building near enough”

Arya surveyed the building less than a quarter of a mile in front of her, six stories high by fifteen large windows wide , three entrances, one of them a triple arch. Apart from a high tower visible in the distance it was clearly the biggest building around “Modest chap your Patrician”.

“Very actually, you know how it is the building comes with the job. It used to be the Royal Palace until we got rid of the King, so it seemed a shame not to keep using it. There’s a throne room with a large throne and he sits on a small chair at the bottom of the dais. Don’t get confused though he’s in charge”.

“The departure of the King, I’ve been involved in something like that back where I came from. He’s not likely to return with an army and dragons to burn the place to the ground any time soon is he”.

Sam noted the use of ‘where I came from’ rather than ‘home’, that wasn’t the language of a tourist more an immigrant, not that that mattered Ankh-Morpork had a very liberal attitude to immigration. As long as you didn’t upset the locals you were welcome, if you did upset them then that was your problem. “No he departed a bit more permanently than that and just short of two hundred years ago”. Sam wasn’t mentioning Carrot’s status as the true heir to the throne, largely because he was getting old and Carrot was a very large bloke, but also because ‘least said soonest mended’ was a significant part of his philosophy and he didn’t see anyone but himself and Carrot needed to know.

By this time they’d reached the front doors and Arya noted that the large ceremonial ones were shut and that they entered by a perfectly normal sized postern. The throne room however was through a large pair of doors that were fully open allowing you to take in the majesty of the setting and, as Sam had said, a thin man in simple black clothing was sitting in a small chair with a couple of other people stood around him. She noted that as he stepped into the throne room Vimes had stiffened up and was clearly marching, feet ringing as they came down on the hard floor. She declined to join in partly because his legs were longer than hers and partly because in soft soled shoes she knew she’d not make any noise. They arrived in front of the Patrician.

“Arya Stark Sir, freshly arrived from Westeros, which may be located a significant distance beyond the rim”.

A bald headed bearded old man [see previous caveat] standing next to the Patrician became very excited “And on your trip here young man did anything unusual happen”.

Arya was wary of not addressing the most important man in the room first and looked at the Patrician, who’s eyebrows clearly said ‘answer him’. “We went through three tropical storms, Marcus, the skipper, mentioned to me that the lightening in the third storm was the wrong colour, tinged purple, and when we came out of the storm we seemed to have moved out of the tropics and into more temperate waters”.

“Octarine, the colour of magic, that explains it, and how long after that before you sighted land”.

“A day and a bit”.

“So if I were to suggest that you moved from one world to another, perhaps even from one universe to another in that last storm then you would have sailed how far since then”.

“A few hundred miles at most, the Petrel, our ship isn’t the fastest thing ever built”.

“A knackered old cog that’s seen better days”, the Patrician spoke “I’m sorry Miss Stark not my words, just the description I was given”.

Arya realised it was an accurate description, but “That knackered old cog has either taken me half way round the world, or possibly taken me a lot further and she’ll be ready to sail again in a couple of days if you don’t want us in your city”. As soon as she’d said it Arya realised this sounded just a little aggressive “I’m sorry, but I’m proud of my ship”.

“And so you should be, we believe that she has completed a most remarkable voyage”.

His tone wasn’t in the last bit aggressive so Arya thought she ought to try and reciprocate “and I’m called Arya, there’s no need for the formality of Miss Stark”.

“Sadly I think there is, in my position one doesn’t have friends and using your first name might suggest otherwise”.

Arya’s mouth moved before her brain “Well in that case I’m Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell, heir to the kingdom of the North in Westeros”.

The Patrician watched with amusement as she stiffened her body to try and look an inch taller as she made this statement. He smiled at Sam Vimes, the smile that said, ‘her temper is your problem’. Vimes’ face replied ‘aren’t they all’.

Arya observed that the bald man had been virtually bouncing up and down during this exchange and he couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “Young man, don’t you realise the significance or what you’ve done. Both I and the university have theorised about the possibility of multiple universes but you seem to have given us proof. This is the most significant event to happen on The Disc in a very long time, possibly ever. This changes how we all have to think about reality”.

Idly Sam contemplated that to the average Ankh-Morpork thief this occurrence was as relevant as whether the turtle was left footed, but since the Patrician seemed interested he suspected at some point he would have to ‘do something about it’. At least the Patrician was the sort of person who would be specific about what he required Sam to do.

The bald man was clearly just getting up steam he confronted Arya at close range “So, did you use magic to achieve the transfer or was it a spontaneous occurrence”.

“Leonard calm down and step back you may be frightening _Miss_ Stark”.

Arya was tempted to laugh, but a look at the Patrician suggested he wasn’t going to so she didn’t. Leonard seemed undisturbed “But it’s of the utmost importance, we need to know if magic was involved”.

“Only because you and Professor Ridcully are at daggers drawn over the matter. The rest of us are focussing on the implications of visitors from places with very different societies and levels of technology to ours, how they arrive is of minor importance”.

“You are wrong Havelock, you are wrong”.

Arya watched as Vimes and the others standing around visibly winced at such criticism of the Patrician. She noted he himself did not seem so bothered.

Leonard continued “If they have employed magic, an agency, then they can come again and again. If it is a random act of the cosmos, then since it appears not to have happened previously within recorded history it is unlikely to be repeated”.

Arya could see sense in that “We did nothing deliberate to induce a transfer and I am unaware of anyone who has even considered such ideas where I come from. We have more pressing domestic problems. I set out to sail round a spherical world to find out what was on the other side. If as you say this world is not spherical then clearly something has happened which we did not intend, not least because I had not necessarily planned to remain in whatever land I discovered but might have returned”.

The Patrician turned towards her “Thank you Miss Stark”, then back towards the bald headed man “And thank you Leonard for your attendance. Since you believe we are unlikely to be invaded before teatime, or even breakfast tomorrow I think we can move on. Would you do me a favour and pass this information on to Unseen University and Professor Ridcully and tell him that the cities funding for the spells required to destroy a magic induced bridge to another universe are suspended for now”.

“With pleasure Lord Vetinari” and Leonard left at a surprising speed for one of his apparentage and constitution.

The Patrician waved his hands and people started to leave. Arya was about to follow when the words “Not you Vimes” stopped Sam in his tracks. Arya looked at the Patrician who simply smiled, so she was clearly also to remain.

“Now my apologies, that meeting became a little heated very quickly. The gentleman getting all excited was Leonard of Quirm, probably the cleverest man on the The Disc, but as with other clever people he is a gentleman slightly lacking in people skills”.

“That’s quite alright; while what he said was a little startling he didn’t worry me personally”.

“So may I introduce myself, my name is Havelock Vetinari and I am the Patrician of Ank-Morpork the twin cities you have arrived at after your apparently extraordinary journey and if you are Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell do I have to regard this as an official diplomatic mission from Westeros”.

“No, I’m sorry there was no need for me to use my title, I actually prefer being called Arya exactly because I don’t want to be thought of as a princess, but if Miss Stark is your preference then Miss Stark is fine”.

“Good then shall we have tea and crumpets while you tell me your story, your complete story from beginning to end, leaving nothing out beyond the totally mundane”.

Arya had no idea what ‘tea and crumpets’ meant but she got the rest of the message, he wanted to know what had happened so he could make up his own mind. “How far back do you want me to go”.

“Obviously to the start of the voyage but it would be helpful, if you were to fill me in on any, let’s call it ‘family background’ that might be relevant”.

At this point an elderly servant entered bearing a tray and accompanied by a small scruffy dog. “Ah Miss Stark, meet Rufus Drumknott my private secretary and general factotum and Wuffles. He scrounges and should not be indulged”.

Arya turned to the gentleman arranging the things on a table while Commander Vimes set out the chairs “Good day master Drumknott, I assume it was Wuffles who his Lordship was referring when he mentioned scrounging”.

“Indeed Miss”. Drumknott’s face was that of every senior palace servant Arya had ever met in Westeros when she tried to be funny. Some things never changed she concluded.

“Forgive Miss Stark Drumknott she has come a very long way, from beyond The Disc and her cultures ideas of humour may differ from ours”. Arya could swear Vetinari’s face was almost smiling, almost but not quite.

“Yes Sir”. Drumnknott left, not so Wuffles who was clearly interested in Arya, perhaps a trifle too interested in her leg. She gave him a gentle tap in the midriff with her toe and he backed off.

“Vimes has Sergant Agnua been with Miss Stark”.

“Yes Sir, she and Captain Carrot found her in the Groaning Platter”.

“Ah, I’m afraid Wuffles has something of a thing about Sergeant Angua, even the slightest scent. Unless of course you have to tell me you share the sergeant’s biology”.

“No sir, I’m as human as you are”, Arya thought it diplomatic not to mention Warging at this point.

“Good, well let’s all sit down and Miss Stark the floor is yours” and so it remained for a considerable period of time. Arya started with leaving King’s Landing but Vetinari was having none of that, wanting to know why she had decided to leave, so by the time she had finished he’d heard virtually her complete life story, which she realised had clearly been his intention from the start. By the time she finished the tea and crumpets, which Arya had decided were both things she would sample again, had been long finished, Wuffles had departed, but not before Arya had slipped him a piece of crumpet.

“So here I am and for now unless you have a good reason for me not to, I intend to stay for some time”.

“You are welcome Miss Stark to stay as long as you wish. I am comfortable that you have no interest in local politics, nor intend to acquire any and as long as that is the case you and I can be as close to friends as I am to anyone”.

Arya could take a hint, “I’m sure I will have no reason to involve myself in any form of politics here”.

“Good then I’m sure Commander Vimes can arrange for you to get back to either your ship or the Groaning Platter. Do enjoy your stay”.

Vimes stood up, Arya followed suit and he directed her out of the door and followed her out. “Not stopping behind to get further instructions on what to do with me”.

“No and as long as you behave yourself, use that pretty little sword for self-defence only, I don’t see why I need to see you in my official capacity ever again. Unofficially I’m afraid I know that as soon as my wife hears of your existence you will be invited to our house so that she can meet you”.

“You make it sound like I won’t enjoy the invitation, should I decline”.

“For my sake one visit would be recommended. I’ve not seen enough of you to be sure whether you’ll find my wife a desirable friend or not”.

“Well since I am here to sample the delights of the locality meeting different parts of society seems like a good idea. If Mrs Vimes…”.

“Lady Sybil Vimes, and I’m afraid you’ll need to stick to that until told otherwise”

“If Lady Sybil Vimes, wishes to invite me I am happy to accept. You know where to find me, either in the Groaning Platter on board the ship I arrived on”.


	5. Strange People [Nobby] and even stranger customs

By the time Arya had accepted any proposed invitation they had left the palace and were half way back to the watch house. Arya realised that this was probably where Vimes would say good bye and she would have no idea how to get back to the ship. She knew the general direction but to find the specific street would require a lot of asking and she was cursing herself for having left her map back in the tavern.

“Do you need an escort back to your ship”, the man was a mind reader, well no probably just an old man used to dealing with foreigners.

“Not so much an escort as a guide. I’m quite happy to look after myself, but someone who knows their way would be helpful”.

“Corporal Nobbs, then, he grew up in The Shades, the area of town down by the docks. A little tip, if he suddenly isn’t with you draw that sword and be prepared to use it. In his military days they say Generals watched which way he was moving to determine how a battle was going”.

Arya filed that away for reference. They reached the watch house just as a small wizened man was exiting. Barely bigger than Arya he was notionally wearing the uniform of a watchman, but in such a manner as to suggest that it was an imposition not an honour.

“Ah Nobby perfect timing”, the look on Nobby’s face said that was only in the Commander’s opinion “This young lady is Miss Arya Stark, newly arrived and currently residing on a ship in the Pearl Dock called the Petrel. She has made a good impression on the Patrician, who clearly wishes us to make a good impression on her, so would you mind escorting her back to her vessel or the Groaning Platter, whichever she requires”.

Nobby’s “Yes Sir”, was one of resignation so Arya tried to add a little encouragement. “I’m sure if you could spare a little extra time I could buy you some refreshments in the Groaning Platter”. The effect was instantaneous, Nobby propelled her down the road with a brisk “This way Miss”, and the words “She’ll be fine with me commander” thrown over his shoulder. Arya manged a quick “Goodbye” in the direction of Vimes before she was taken round a corner and he was lost from sight.

“So Miss”.

“Arya please”

“Arya then, not that it affects the route much but do you want to go direct to the Platter or do you want to go to the ship first”.

Arya thought about it, they’d been with Patrician quite some time, it wasn’t getting dark but the day was clearly drawing to a close. “I think the ship, then I can collect the crew and we can all go to the tavern”. Nobby said no more and Arya found that she was back on the dock side quite rapidly. The walk back hadn’t felt half as tiring as the one down so her legs were getting used to it again. When she arrived on the ship she found just Elog and Piotr on board. “The rest of them are eating in the Groaning platter”.

“And you two”.

“They’ll bring enough back for us”.

So Arya and Nobby returned to the tavern and found Marcus and the crew just ordering dinner. “So Nobby what would you like”.

“A large flagon will do nicely thank you”.

“Oh I really meant a meal”.

“Well thank you very much Arya but I need to get back on patrol faster than that so a large flagon if you don’t mind”. Arya ordered a large flagon and when it came considered that is would take her all night to consume it. Not so Nobby who polished it off in two goes and about a minute and a half, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, burped loudly, which got a cheer from the other end of the room, and stuck out his hand to Arya “Thank you kindly, now the mean streets of Ankh-Morpork don’t patrol themselves so I’ll bid you good evening” and he was gone before she’d had time to reply.

She squeezed into a space next to Marcus who looked at her “Interesting little chap, not at all like his two colleague who called earlier”.

“Big redheaded chap and a woman smelling vaguely of dog”.

“Ah that’s what it was, it’s been irritating me ever since she left the ship, a smell I knew but just couldn’t put my finger on. You’ve obviously met them, bit of a dog lover is she”.

“I think you could say that”, she wasn’t sure how Marcus would respond to being told the folktales of werewolves were true and one had been on his deck that afternoon.

“The big lad was interesting, it’s been a long time since Haerd had to look up to someone, about puberty probably, but when I took him into the cabin so we could chat in comfort he never once hit his head. I mentioned it and he said something about growing up in confined spaces. It was obviously a bit of a joke between the two of them since it was the only time I saw the woman smile. Anyhow I told him where we’d come from. He didn’t seem that convinced and she clearly thought we were lying our socks off, but they agreed it was what you’d told them. They tried to be nosy about you but I said if they wanted to ask you questions you could answer them yourself and he said you’d be doing that for, was it the patriarch”

“Patrician”

“Aye that would be it, the Patrician”.

The food arrived and they all tucked in with gusto, silence was the order of the day while some serious eating took place. Once they were all ashore and stood or sat next to landsmen it was obvious they’d all lost a bit of weight and they were spending half an hour setting the matter to rights. After that they all ordered a large flagon of ale except Arya who asked for a small one, which caused some consternation, apparently no one ever ordered anything but a large one, but eventually she was brought what she rightly suspected was some sort of measure out of the kitchen and they settled back and she was made to recount her experiences of the afternoon. The concept of alternative worlds was as strange to the rest of the crew as it had been to her. She’d kept quiet while she was with the Patrician but she still wasn’t sure exactly what they’d been saying except that the ship had jumped worlds somehow.

“So if I set out home on a reverse course you’re saying I will sail over the edge of the world then”.

“Apparently if you stay on this world yes. Obviously if we hit another storm and it sent us back to our world first then no”.

“That’s a bit of a risky proposition”.

“Well yes and no, if you don’t hit a storm with the coloured lightening, Octarine he called it, the colour of magic, then you turn back using a local chart before you get to the rim”.

“I suppose so, but it sounds like we’re not going back to Westeros any time soon”.

“I’m not sure I ever was”.

“Ah, but that’s you, now you’re over here you’ll not want us trailing round after you. My original plan if we got somewhere alive and in good shape was to find something they have here we don’t at home and take some back and make some good money, but that seems to be on indefinite hold. Oh well back to costal trading then”.

“I need to have time to think about this Marcus, I’m not just casting you all adrift, I might want to move on from here by ship”. Arya realised the idea of saying goodbye to them all was upsetting her. She’d made some friends and she didn’t want to lose them.

“Well we’ve plenty of time to think about lots of things. Judging by the number of local dollars you got for the Dragon and the price of food and drink round here we’re not going to run out of money next week”.

It was true, her slate on the wall had been marked down for a substantial meal and drinks and there was still plenty left. She realised part of her getting slightly upset was that she was tired, a mixture of release from the excitement of the afternoon and a lot of food meant she was ready for her bed. She yawned loudly and Marcus took the hint, “Come on then lads let’s get back to the boat”.

Most of them went, a couple stayed for another Flagon, they took two large meals from the kitchen for the lads on watch and it wasn’t long before Arya was tucked up in her bed in her room upstairs where she very quickly dropped asleep.

\-------------------------------------------------

It was well into the night when the sound of someone opening the window to her room disturbed Arya. He was being quiet, but not quiet enough. She rolled out with her knife in her hand, went left since she could hear him go right round the wall so that she was at the side of the window. He realised something was wrong when he got to the bed and she wasn’t in it. She was thinking ‘He’s obviously a thief not an assassin’, he was going through all the items he found on the floor, which since she was warm enough meant all her clothes and to his disappointment nothing else. Just for a moment she wondered just how thoroughly he’d rummaged through her small clothes, which hadn’t been washed for some time. So as he stopped by the now empty bed she put him out of his doubts. “I’m by the window for now, I’ve got a knife and I’ve spent a long time practicing how to kill people in this situation. My advice is to give me your name and agree that you’ll leave promptly when I tell you to. Then I’ll move out of your way and you’ll go way and tell all your friends to leave me alone if they want to live. Is that clear”. As soon as she’d finished talking she moved, far enough but not too close to him, it wasn’t a big room.

“So you’re an assassin miss, beg pardon, I’m very sorry, professional error on my part, we have an agreement with the Assassins Guild, mutual avoidance, you might call it, strict observance of demarcation, we steal but do no harm miss as per guild rules. My names Ymor miss and I’ll be gone immediately you give me permission. I will pass word to the guilds about your profession and I can assure you you’ll hear no more from us, or the beggars guild either. I see now why the watch wanted a quick word this afternoon, just confirming your business as it were”.

Arya was confused, guild, mutual avoidance, demarcation, what was he talking about. She decided for a minute to trust his ‘we steal but do no harm’, “Ymor stay where you are”.

“Yes Miss”.

It had occurred to Arya that she was standing their naked, stark naked, there was a bad running family joke in there, but she didn’t suppose Ymor was interested at this moment. He actually sounded quite frightened. “I’m new to Ankh-Morpork so I’m not familiar with your local customs. We’re both going to move round the room anti- clockwise”.

“Sorry to interrupt miss but is that widdershins”.

“I think so, let hope so otherwise you’ll accidentally run into my knife, which is what I’m really trying to avoid”

“As am I miss”

Good so widdershins we go so I can get back to my clothes and you’re going to wait by the side of the window while I put them on. I’d be obliged if you’d not try and watch me, although I admit there’s not a lot I can do to stop you”.

Ymor's tone was indignant, “Miss, I’m a burgler not a Peeing Tom, we don’t stand with that sort of guild in Ankh-Morpork. I shall close my eyes until you tell me otherwise”.

“Right well, we just move now” and suiting actions to words Arya went back round to her bed. She heard Ymor moving opposite her, twice he cursed as he first stubbed a toe and then banged his head on a roof rafter, obviously he was in a strange way a man of his word. Arya found her small clothes and pulled them on, then her shirt, that would do, so she sat down on the bed. “Now Ymor I’m decent, so suppose you explain yourself, about your guild and so on”.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“Well” as Ymor told everyone who would listen, “It’s the first time I’ve been asked to explain my trade at three in the morning. She was very interested, it’s not the same where she comes from, apparently a thief’ll as soon cut your throat as rob you, so they get treated a bit differently and it’s no more than they deserve I say, clearly they’ve no pride in their job if they have to go mixing in violence. She admitted that they do a have an assassin’s guild in one city, but not in her country. Apparently she’s an ex member, some sort of disagreement over working practices. I’ve told her she should pop round and see our folks, just as a matter of courtesy”.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Ymor’s advice and a massive dose of curiosity, was why Arya presented herself at the front door of the Assassin’s Guild the next morning. She was shown in and met Lord Downey who gave her a short tour. Arya found the whole place very strange. Where the House of Black and White tried to put a religious veneer on killing people, the Ankh-Morpork guild treated the whole process as a sport, a paid sport admittedly, but a sport nevertheless. Arya also found an excessive attitude of manliness about the place. Lord Downey had clearly been disappointed when he realised that Arya was female. She nevertheless had to admit that the library was extensive and detailed and the museum demonstrated that some members of the craft had had very inventive minds. She assured Downey that she had not come to the city to practice the craft, or to ask to become a student. The latter he admitted would “Deuced difficult, no girls house, no girls dorm you know, not quite sure how we could do it”. She was however made an honorary member in a brief, and Arya found slightly ridiculous, ceremony, issued with a badge ‘to be displayed discreetly so that another Assassin will notice and avoid an unnecessary mistake, but not so prominently that it might be seen by the general hoi polloi’ and given mid-morning tea and biscuits. Suitable refreshed she thus found herself returning to the Platter in time to meet most of the crew for lunch.


	6. Under observation

During lunch with the crew Arya noticed a rather scruffy looking man wearing a long robe covered in sigils and signs and a pointy hat sitting at a table nursing a flagon [large of course], By the end of lunch she was pretty sure she knew why he was sitting there. Since she was wearing her Honorary Assassin’s pin and she was quite sure Ymor’s grapevine would have got the message around the Shades by now she assumed he had to be an actual magician, not someone faking it in a funny costume with other intentions. After a while she got tired of the pretence.

“You might as well come and sit at the table, then you won’t have to keep leaning forward to hear what I’m saying”.

The man tried to look at the rafters as through he didn’t realise she was talking to him so Arya flicked her knife across the room and pinned his hat to the wall.

“And you can bring the knife back and give it to me in a civilised manner, hilt first”.

This time he did as instructed, Arya cleared a bit of bench next to herself by hip bumping Elog “Shove up, there’s not a lot of him”. It was true once he moved it was obvious that under the robe there was a lot of air and not that much flesh, which contrasted sharply with the other two people Arya had seen walking by outside the Patrician’s Palace the previous day, both of whom had filled the clothing quiet copiously.

“So let’s start nice and simply, name, occupation and reason for _trying_ rather obviously to listen in on my conversation”.

The man did resigned ‘I’m for it now’, “My names Rincewind, I’m a Wizard at Unseen University and I’ve been sent by the Archchancellor to keep you under observation so that if anything magical happens I can report back, assuming that I survive”.

“Are you expecting anything to happen”.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘worried’, or in my case since I’m going to be close by ‘terrified’”.

“Really”.

“Yes”.

“What do you think might happen”.

“We haven’t a clue, which is why we’re worried. Wizards are very clever people who spend a lot of time working on getting even cleverer, so when something comes along which clearly concerns magic and we don’t know what happened, how it happened or why it happened we clearly don’t know if it will happen again, although its highly likely it will”.

“You seem sure it concerned magic”.

“You told the Patrician and Leonard of Quirm you went through three storms and in the last one the lightening wasn’t blue white it was tinged purple”.

“Yes”.

“That purple is almost certainly the impact of Octarine, the eighth colour just beyond violet. You can’t normally see it, it’s the colour of Magic. So something magic happened and you ceased to be in a spherical world and arrived on the disc”.

“That’s your interpretation, but let’s go with it for now”.

“And none of you are magicians, no one set out to perform magic to achieve this”.

“No”, Arya’s verbal statement was accompanied by much shaking of heads from the rest of the crew.

“So either there is a very strong magician totally unknown to the university working on The Disc, in which case, since such people have a tendency to be a bit power hungry, we’re waiting to see what he does next, which to be fair probably won’t involve you. Or and that’s the or I’m to observe, there is something about one or all of you that caused it, in which case repetition is probable and whatever occurs will occur in your vicinity”.

Marcus spoke up, “Or magic or not it was a totally random event in which case it might/might not repeat in a time varying from the next few minutes to a millennium hence, anywhere and to anyone, in the form of anything”.

“Well technically, philosophically yes, but that’s more unpredictable than an Act of God, particularly on The Disc where the Gods habits are pretty well known, so we can ignore it because we can’t do anything about it”.

“So, based on the principle that there’s a measure of logical sequence involved, you’re expecting us to disappear possibly taking others, maybe even structures as well as people with us, or you’re expecting others to arrive focussed on us a sort of lighthouse sending out a signal for them. And of those two the one that interests your masters is probably the arrival, unless of course the whole city was to depart, but the one that worries you is the departure, that by sitting next to us as you are now, you will end up somewhere else”.

“Yes”.

“Life’s an adventure Rincewind and vastly preferable to the alternative”.

Rincewind didn’t look convinced. Arya attempted to change the subject “So tell us about yourself, you must be important to be given this job”.

“No I’m expendable, as has been proved over the years when….” and Rincewind started to regale them with the story of his not uninteresting life. [This life can be found in several books by a Mr T Pratchett and copyright prevents me repeating more than small portion of it here. If you’re interested read the books starting with ‘The Colour of Magic’].

Several hours later Arya had developed some sympathy for Rincewind. “Well now I know what you’re doing you can back off and sit at the other side of the bar if you want, but I’d say you’ll have more fun if you sit with us and join in”.

“Thank you. I do have to ask a question, you made a couple of remarks, asked a few questions, do you practice anything that might even vaguely be called magic, and I must warn you that silence will be taken as a yes”.

Arya couldn’t quite lie to his face “Yes, there are a couple of things I can do, one of them requires help in the form of a tool I don’t have so I don’t know if it works on the Disc, but the others just something that runs in the family”.

“Let’s go with the ‘just runs in the family’ shall we for starters”.

“When I’m asleep I find myself in the mind of an animal”.

“Any old animal”.

“No one specific one I knew when it was younger”.

“So this animal might be described as one you’re familiar with”.

“Yes”, once he’d phrased it that way….. “Oh, does that make me….”

“When you’re in the animals mind you get all its sensory input”.

“Yes”.

“And you can control the animal make it go where you want”.

“I don’t always”.

“But you can”

“Yes. Is that a problem here, I mean the term witch on Westeros doesn’t always have positive connections, not that anyone’s ever called what I do witchcraft”.

“Your biggest problem in Ankh-Morppok is that this is the home of Unseen University an all-male group of magicians, many, but not all, of whom don’t have a high regard for witches simply because they are female. Now to your second skill”.

“It doesn’t really matter because I need things I don’t have here so let’s forget it”. Arya had decided that ’coming out as a witch’, she’d never thought of herself in that way before; was enough for one day and if Rincewind was nervous now, if she outlined the way she could change her appearance and that she’d been trained to do so by a group of assassins, he’d be positively frantic. Anyway she wasn’t sure she could do it without a face and she wasn’t willing to generate a face just to find out.

Rincewind looked unconvinced, however he stayed with the crew the rest of the day and hung around in the bar most of the evening until Arya went to bed. Next morning he was back within an hour of breakfast so she said good morning and left him to it.


	7. Dressing for dinner and other social niceties [like the dinner, I’m afraid this a bit of a long one]

They had all barely finished eating lunch when a rather smartly dressed man appeared in door of the Platter. It was clear from the look on his face that the establishment was well below the sort of place he normally frequented. It was clear form the catcalls and vocal abuse that he was receiving that the locals disrespect matched his own. Marcus nodded at him, “I think he might be for you Arya, from the Watch man’s wife”.

“Ah, yes”, Arya got up and walked to the door “Are you looking for Arya Stark”

“Yes, I have a message for your mistress lad”.

“I’ll pass it on”.

“I’m instructed to wait for a reply, it is usual to write something”

“You hang on outside I’ll bring it to you”

“Thank you”.

He moved away from the door and stood across the road, which didn’t help much as he just got abuse from passing locals. Arya went back inside and opened the envelope. Inside was a very smart looking card inviting Miss Stark and friend to the Vimes residence for dinner, please be ready for a coach at seven for seven thirty. Dress was described as ‘casual’. This last had been written in a larger more masculine hand, which Arya ascribed to the Commander. Rerpf manged to produce pen and ink but no paper so Arya was reduced to writing her acceptance on the back of the card. She went back out and handed the envelope to the servant who departed at speed. When she returned to the communal table Marcus couldn’t avoid a dig, “Now if you’d only kept that dress Sansa put in you could have gone in style”.

“It said casual, which I assume means come as you are”.

“It was obvious her husband wrote that at the last minute, because he’s probably worked out you’d have nothing else”.

How wrong can you be.

\--------------------------------------

Lady Sybil Vimes greeted her two guests as they stepped down from the coach. “Miss Stark and Mister Stanson I believe”.

“Good evening Lady Vimes”, Arya felt his was going to be a relaxed evening, Lady Sybil Vimes was a large middle aged woman [Arya was beginning to realise that not everyone over the age of twenty five was ancient], but at present dressed in some fairly robust leather clothing. Arya had had a new leather doublet and breeches made in Morpork and felt that if anything she was the one looking stylish.

“Do come in the two of you, oh and call me Sybil, my dear, let’s not stand on formality”, and she lead the way into a large, and Arya couldn’t help thinking rather flashy, house. Morpork looked much like Winterfell or King’s Landing but once you crossed the river to Ankh the buildings tended to be far smarter, stone not timber plus wattle and daub, far more ornate than anything Arya has seen before. As they went in Arya walked past the servant who’d brought the invitation, who’s eye’s nearly popped out as he realised who she was.

Sybil lead them into a sizeable library, “If you’d just wait here for my husband Mr Stanson, he is as usual late, but it won’t take the two of you as long to dress for dinner as it will us, so just browse the books and when he _finally_ gets here he’ll see to you”.

She then turned to Arya “Whereas you and I my dear will need a little more time, so come on” and she virtually shunted Arya out of the room before she could say anything. They went up a large staircase and down a corridor into a large bedroom where a collection of maidservants were waiting holding assorted clothes.

“I thought it said casual dress”.

“I wrote that on at the last minute because I realised you wouldn’t have the right sorts of things to wear so we’ll get you dressed. Sam will do the same for Marcus, when he finally gets home. Of course it will be easier for them, less to change and we may have to modify a few things to get you into them. Now let’s get started, strip off” and suiting actions to words Sybil started to remove the things she had on.

Arya realised that she had little chance of not doing as she was told, Sybil had one of those voices that said, ‘people obey me, they have always obeyed me and its’ not going to change now’. So she started to strip off. She paused briefly when she got to her shirt and small clothes, but the eyes said keep going and she reduced herself to nakedness. Not for long because the first maid put a shift over her head, swiftly followed by three underskirts, a bum roll, and a heavy embroidered silk brocade overskirt. Next to her Sybil was being similarly attired. Briefly her maids paused and Sybil looked at her

“I’ll say that for Sam, he’s a very good judge of size, all those years looking for a man of about and getting the height right I suppose”.

And it as true that everything was the right height and any excess in breadth was being dealt with by simply pulling the laces a bit tighter. Arya felt she being trussed like a bird for the oven, but she also realised that had she stopped at home her mother would have dressed her in a similar manner long before this age.

After their brief pause, there was a corset, then a bodice and overskirt, with a stomacher including a beautifully carved wooden busk. As the maid slotted the last in place Arya realised that bending forward was now totally impossible. Finally a wig so large it came on a light wooden frame was settled on her head and pinned in place.

“There look at yourself in the glass; you are really a remarkably attractive young lady”.

Arya looked as indicated. She had to admit that the corset made a lot of what she had very little of quite effectively, but it did leave it rather publically on show. Lady Sybil’s dress was somewhat more circumspect in that respect; despite the fact it had a lot more material to cover.

“I feel a little exposed, do you have something I could wrap round as a kerchief”.

“Really my dear it’s only family for dinner, Sam and Marcus will be the only gentleman present, but if you wish”. The last part was said with a tone that clearly added ‘I’m disappointed in you’.

Arya knew when, she was beaten, “Well if you’re sure”, she noticed the maids hadn’t made any move to offer her anything either. 

“All ready then, good. Let’s go and find out if the chaps are ready, if not we can have a quick pre-dinner drink” and like a stately galleon Lady Sybil, Arya found it difficult to think of her as Sybil now she was dressed up, sailed out of the room. Down the stairs Arya going quite slowly and being very careful where she put her feet, turn away from the library and into a room opposite, where they found that Marcus and Sam had indeed managed to change before them.

The transformation in the men had been nearly as impressive. Arya started at the bottom and worked her way upwards, smart leather shoes with red coloured heels and large bows holding the strap in place, silk hose to the knee, more ribbons and bows at the knee, tight breeches above that, very tight. Arya found her eyes pausing slightly longer than a lady’s should on Marcus groin, she’d never realised; No ‘eyes up’. Around his waist was a tight decorated pale blue sash, above it two visible jackets, the outer one black, the inner white, under them a shirt with an impossibly tight raised collar and a small coloured cloth knotted round the neck. Arya felt certain that out of doors, if such attire was ever worn out of doors, there had to be a hat of some size. It was also clear that Marcus not being quite as robustly built as Sam Vimes didn’t quite fit his clothing. The effect was nevertheless spectacular if wonderfully impractical for anything but sitting down and eating.

Sam looked just as impressive with the advantage that the clothing was clearly a perfect fit. His face however just as much as Marcus’ said ‘fish out of water’.

Marcus looked at her with a face that said ‘don’t we look a pair of Charlies’. She realised he would never have worn anything this elaborate in his life nor expected to. Still there was no time to discuss the matter as Sybil was taking charge.

“Right a small dry sherry I think while cook is informed we’re ready”.

A servant in a smarter version of the uniform Arya had seen yesterday presented a tray and they all removed a delicate patterned glass containing a nearly clear liquid. Arya didn’t need to be told this was a drink for small sips and found it a sharp but pleasant mixture, just the sort of thing to make you feel hungry, which it duly did as Lady Sybil engaged Marcus in conversation of the ‘so where do you come from and ‘so what do you do’ variety. Sam Vimes approached her, “Well I know where you come from and what you do so how about I tell you I hate wearing this rig, dressed up like a penguin with bows on, but Sybil will insist that not to ‘dress for dinner’ is the first step to barbarism and even when a dragon was burning the city down she wasn’t going down that road. I’m sure if the ground opened up and swallowed us wholesale she’d be unconcerned as long as she wasn’t caught getting changed”.

Arya giggled, “I’m going to make a guess you married into this, you weren't born to it”.

“Funnily generations ago my family was, but we made a tactical error and had, let’s call it a period in the wilderness. But I appear to have rehabilitated the family honour, and you’re right when I was Captain Vimes of the Night Watch, you wouldn’t have been half as impressed and I’d have been dressed far more comfortably. How are you managing, is this the sort of thing you wore at home”.

“No but it’s similar to what I would have had to wear as I got older”.

“Even the wig. You should be thankful, she has one with a ship in it and she thought that would suit you since you’d arrived by sea. I persuaded her it was heavy enough to make you top heavy”.

“No I must admit the wig, even without the ship, for which you have my thanks, is a bit more than I’d have had to put up with, but that was one of my problems at home, I didn’t like wearing this sort of thing”. Arya looked down at herself, carefully using her eyes and without inclining her head “The wig is however the only way I think anyone will ever describe me as top heavy”.

“And you look all the better for it my dear, you are beautifully in proportion and I must admit when Marcus and I first saw you on the stairs our joint reaction was undiluted admiration, or more simply we both said ‘Wow’”.

Arya was spared any further conversation on the is topic as another servant arrived and announced “Dinner is Served”.

“Shall we”, Sam offered her his arm, they both put down their glasses on a tray that had materialised just in front of them and disappeared just as smoothly.

The dining room was long and just for a second Arya had visions of them sitting two pairs at the ends of a long table virtually shouting down it, but there was small table separated at one end and they sat down in a more sensible square. Sam eased Arya’s chair under her as she subsided onto it, concentrating on keeping her head upright so as not to let the wig tip. As he then sat down with a servant behind his chair he turned to his wife, “Sybil I know that you are more addicted to the rules of etiquette than I am to the Law, but with just four of us can we drop talk to the person one side for one course and then the other for the next and just chat across and around the table”.

There was the briefest of icy pauses, Marcus looked at Arya, then Lady Sybil spoke. “Very well Sam you have a good point. The rules are designed for formal banquets when there are thirty at the long table and it avoids anyone feeling left out, but we are just about family so I think we can be a little less formal”.

Which Arya thought was a good thing as she’d just sized up the cutlery in front of her. She could see the look of panic in Marcus face opposite,. He was used to eating with a knife, a spoon was a landsman’s luxury and forks were something that the likes of Princesses used. “Lady Sybil I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep asking all sorts of questions just to make sure that your social rules and mine are the same, so do we start at the outside and come inwards with the cutlery”.

“Yes dear, I’m sure all civilised people do it the same way, how could we not”, Marcus face was one of total relief, Sam having noticed Marcus’ worried look was smiling “Best for young Arya to check though dear”.

Servants appeared with the first course, “Oysters a la Klatch” one announced. Spicy, horse radish and some sort of spirit, only a couple but very nice and a dry white wine. Arya viewed the wine glass with trepidation, it was quite large and she wasn’t. She was going to have to get through the evening on small sips well spaced.

Arya watched Sam dispose of his oysters, like all seagoing small folk he was used to oysters, they were a staple food, but Arya realised he was probably used to more than two.

Second course arrived, “Consomme Sybil” “not after me of course, far older than that”, a clear liquid clearly beef stock based plus herbs. A different white wine rather like the pre-dinner sherry, another small sip.

Oysters require a bit of attention but with the arrival of the soup conversation started. Sybil wanted to know everything about Westeros high society which meant Arya answering, Sam asked for a little more detail about their trip and then invited them to ask questions of their hosts, allowing Marcus to ask about places to sail to and trade. Lady Sybil visibly winced when he said ‘trade’, but otherwise made no comment. Arya meanwhile asked about the other people’s and Ankh-Morpork society at all levels. Sybil answered concerning the aristocracy and some clearly upper class types of foreigner like the vampires, Sam filled in the details about the ‘others’.

In the process the courses kept coming: -

Poached pike – more white wine

Fillet mignon of pork – a light red wine

Lamb with rice, peas and carrots – a heavier red wine

A raspberry sorbet, - no wine, hardly a reprieve as the sorbet was effectively just water

Quail, just one each – more heavy red wine

Asparagus salad – no more wine but several of Arya’s glasses were part full in front of her so she felt she had to manage a sip of one of the whites

Duck Pate – sweet white wine

Waldorf Pudding - A creamy vanilla pudding flavoured with a hint of nutmeg, diced apples and sultanas – another sweet white wine, more raisiny in flavour

Several cheeses and some fresh fruit – a dark, clearly fortified, sweet red wine

As the meal progressed despite taking ever smaller amounts of the wines Arya could feel herself both coming under the influence of the alcohol and the volume of liquid. By the Duck Pate she realised she was not sitting still; then a godsend, Sam stood up,

“Sybil you’ve overdone it as usual, I need a leak” and he turned towards a large screen on one side of the room. As he did so he nodded to Arya “You’re on that side”.

Arya didn’t wait to enquire further and shot behind the other screen to find a maid waiting to lower her over a chamber pot and assist her up afterwards. She returned to the table to find Sam sitting down, Marcus was just disappearing behind the opposite screen and Lady Sybil drinking another full glass of wine regardless. As she sat down she was sure she heard Lady Sybil mutter ‘girls of today’.

When they had finally reached the end of the cheeses and Arya was sure she couldn’t face another mouthful Lady Sybil turned to her “I am now going to shock you to the core young lady, it is my one vice, but in my own house I may indulge it. You may join me if you wish”.

Sam leaned in from the other side “Anywhere else you go at this point the most senior lady present takes you all out to the drawing room while the men sit here and smoke cigars”.

A servant appeared with a box containing inch thick tubes about six inches long. Marcus and Arya watched as Sam and Lady Sybil removed one, clipped the end off, put it in their mouths and started to suck as a servant lit one end with a taper from the fire.

Sam looked at Marcus “I’d hazard a guess you’ve not come across tobacco then”.

“No”.

“Care to try one”.

“Well I might as well, we’re here to try new things”. Sam cut another stick and got the taper, “Just suck the air in gently” and put it to the end. The material glowed, Marcus sucked paused, had a minor coughing fit.

“Ah they can do that to you first time, don’t worry”

After a minute a second attempt appeared to work better, “Interesting”.

Sybil was by this time half way down her cigar. She turned to Arya “Of course if we weren’t here they’d be telling filthy jokes and discussing your décolletage, which are male habits I do not intend to copy so overall I think my failing to retire improves the standard of things”.

Arya wished Lady Sybil hadn’t mentioned her décolletage, she been managing to forget it was on display but now she’d mentioned it. Still there was nothing she could do about and it was only Marcus and Sam, both of whom she felt completely safe with. As Marcus sucked away on his cigar Arya watched his reaction, clearly he was starting to enjoy it, however despite the not unpleasant smell wasting around the room the way it had made him cough at first was enough to put her off and Lady Sybil made no attempt to persuade her.

As the cigars were consumed, which kept Sybil fairly quiet, Sam turned to Marcus “I don’t suppose the word billiards means much either”.

“No”.

“Big, edged table covered in cloth, pockets at the corners and half way down the two long sides. Three balls, hit the balls into the pockets and each other in different ways to score points, first to an agreed total’s the winner”.

“No but it sounds interesting, the balls are hard”.

“Oh very”

“So the ball you hit moves sideways dependant on the tangential force from the angle of collision”.

“You’ve got the idea”.

“I’d rather fancy a try, that sounds like a challenge”. 

Arya noticed he’d taken the opportunity to stub his cigar out despite only being only half way down. Sam and Sybil had finished there’s so the party moved into the billiard room. Sam started off showing Marcus and then letting him have a go. It was clear Marcus understood the principle but wasn’t putting it in to practice that well. Arya found the rules quite confusing, what to hit when and in what way to score best and more to the point she quickly realised, set yourself up for another scoring shot. Sybil it was obvious wasn’t in the least bit interested and Arya thought she probably ought to engage her in conversation, although she had no idea what about.

“You should let Arya have a try dear, she’s obviously standing here sizing up every shot”.

“Are you sure I was just thinking we should talk”.

“Nonsense as hostess it’s my job to ensure you enjoy yourself and you do want to have a try don’t you”.

“Yes, I think I do”.

So Arya was given a cue and Sam very gently took hold of her and showed her how to play a shot to keep the cue moving in a straight line so the ball went where you wanted it to, then stepped back, “Off you go”.

“Can you tell me which shot is the best to play in each position”.

“Certainly, start off in this position by trying to put the red in the corner pocket there”.

Arya played the shot and missed narrowly

“You keep going for a few shots, so try to play the spot ball and put the cue ball into the pocket there”.

To her surprise that wasn’t difficult the spot white was close to the pocket, any contact on the correct side and in the cue ball duly went.

“There you go. Now take the cue ball up to the D and try to pocket the spot white. Oh good shot you’re a bit of a natural, now try and pocket the red”.

Arya approached the cue ball, but it was too far down the table from a good angle and the dress didn’t help. She was just about to grab hands full of cloth and hitch it all up in the air before climbing onto the table when Sam passed her a second cue like stick with a fitting on the end.

“Put that down where you would have your hand, then take the half butt”, and he passed her a mammoth cue the length of a half pike “and use that from a safe distance. There is a rule you must keep both feet on the floor for all shots”.

As she said “Thank you” Arya remembered what she had on or rather didn’t have on, yes both feet on the floor was probably best. On the other hand earlier at dinner there would have been no way she could have removed things. However strange it all was it all fitted together and made sense to these people.

The half butt proved to be harder to handle than a short cue, but by the end of the evening Sam had both Arya and Marcus making more shots than they were missing. Finally however fatigue set in and Arya asked politely if they might go home.

“No, no my dear it’s far too late for that and you’d have to get changed first. No we have thirty four bedrooms here, I’m sure we can find you each one”, and unsurprisingly that was the case.


	8. Dragons

So after a late night they both slept in. When they got up they were informed that Sam had gone to work and Lady Sybil, was ‘Round the back with the Dragons’, but that breakfast was in the breakfast room. Arya assumed either she’d misheard or ‘with the dragons’ meant something else, visiting elderly aunts perhaps.

They found their way down to the Breakfast Room, slightly smaller than the dining room, with things laid out on a long sideboard, not a lot just some bacon, lean and streaky, two types of sausage, one considerably more peppery than the other, kidneys, eggs, fried or scrambled, kippers, smoked haddock kedgeree, mushrooms, fried tomatoes, slices of something black and mysterious, fried bread, porridge although on enquiry not made from dwarf bread.

Well let’s say they didn’t go hungry. Part way thorough the meal a tall thin young woman with long blond hair came in, grabbed two slices of fried bread, one in each hand and was heading out of the door when she finally realised they were there.

”Wot ho, sorry nearly missed you, Emma, well strictly the Honourable Emma Farnsworth-FFiskerton, or EFFF to my friends. I take it Lady S is out with the dragons”.

Arya decided it was time to sort something out “Yes, do you have a minute”.

“Well just one, Lady S is expecting me and she’s bit of a dragon herself if you’re late ‘Punctuality the prerogative of King’s’ or some such, lovely woman otherwise”.

“It’s about the dragons. To me a dragon is thirty to fifty feet long wingspan a bit more, capable of breathing fire that melts stone, so not something you keep just behind the house in a smart area of the city”.

“Ah yes easy mistake to make, we had one of those dragons in the city, or rather over it, a little while back, it’s why they’re rebuilding an area just behind the Street of Clever Artificers. No these are swamp dragons, rarely more than a foot and a half in any direction, still breath fire though and not always in a controlled manner, hence the leather togs”.

Arya had noticed that Emma was wearing a collection of what would pass quite easily for leather armour and realised that that had been what Lady Sybil had had on before they ’dressed for dinner’ the previous evening.

“Emma are you dithering about flirting with the servants again!” the question boomed down the hall and echoed off the walls. It was shortly followed by Lady Sybil appearing in the doorway “Ah there you are, come on chop chop!. Oh morning Arya, Marcus, I do hope Emma hasn’t been getting in the way”.

“No Lady Sybil and it’s entirely my fault she wasn’t with you some time ago”, Emma didn’t seem unduly bothered by Lady Sybil but Arya decided she’d do her best to get her out of trouble, “I’ve been asking all sorts of questions about your dragons and Emma really had no choice but to provide me with the answers”.

“Simpler if you came and took a look; Emm be a darling and take this out for the green striped one while I get Arya and Marcus into something suitable” and she handed a small tablet over. Emma took it and left. “Have you eaten enough”.

Arya felt she’d probably eaten too much, but it was too late now to consider that “Yes”.

“Jolly good then, this way” and they were lead out of the back of the house to what had clearly once been the mews. They stopped in the tack room and Sybil pointed at the wall. “Marcus those are Sam’s so you’ll get in them easily as you did his dining togs last night”. Marcus face said that he hadn’t got into Sams’ spares easily last night and he wasn’t sure it would be any easier this morning, but his voice said “Thank you” and he took down the indicated a garments and started to disassemble them with the aim of re-assembling them on his body.

“I’m afraid Arya we’re going to have a bit of a problem with you. I’m not sure I’ve got anything small enough” and so it proved, which didn’t stop Sybil from dressing Arya in the smallest set she had, it just meant that Arya felt even more uncomfortable and unbalanced that she had the previous night. In particular there was a neck and chin guard that Arya could barely rest her nose on.

Eventually however they were ready and Lady Sybil took them into the first room. Flying around were about a dozen small dragons, in a variety of interesting patterns and colour combinations. “Now stand still with one hand out and let them get used to you”. Arya and Marcus did as instructed and after a minute or two one of the larger ones, vivid yellow with what might be described as ‘black trim’ came down towards her and landed on her gloved hand. She had a memory from long ago of her father once letting her handle a hawk, very briefly, this felt similar, it really didn’t weigh much at all. The dragon was looking at her, the eyes seemed to be suddenly very large and she was getting the feeling it wanted feeding. She felt someone put something in her right hand and when she brought it forward it was a sliver of meat. She was about to offer it to the dragon from her hand when Lady Sybil’s voice behind her said “Throw the meat up above its head”, so she did. The dragon arched it’s head back, breathed fire over the rising morsel and then caught it as it fell back down into its mouth.

Arya realised if she’d given it the morsel by hand she’d probably be dousing a fire on her fingers. Sybil handed her a second piece of meat, “Throw it higher it doesn’t do for them to get lazy” so she did and the dragon launched itself upwards, but Arya had thrown the meat quite high and a second passing brilliant blue dragon torched it and snatched it out of the air. “Good girl. You see Arya amongst Swamp Dragons there are the quick and the hungry. It’s good job we don’t eat like this”.

Arya considered she’d not have gone hungry if dinner last night had been on a competitive basis, but didn’t comment on the fact. They spent half an hour feeding the dragons, then returned to the tack room and undressed.

“Well you both did quite well in there for a first time, you might have noticed Arya that I wear a wig and have short hair, that’s because occasionally a dragon explodes and if you’re around them regularly you tend to get a bit singed.

“Explodes!”

“Yes I’m sorry Marcus, did you not realise, all that hydrogen in such little bodies, the slightest backflow and I’m afraid they go bang. It’s rarely fatal for humans unless you’re actually handling one, but you can get scorched and hair is particularly vulnerable”.

It was clear from his face that Marcus wasn’t likely to return now he had this information. Arya was undecided, they were undeniably beautiful and the one on her hand, it’s eyes had looked so inviting.

“You think I’m unwise Marcus, but I’m afraid I’m slightly addicted, look into their eyes too long and they get a little hook into your brain”.

They all went back to the house and Arya and Marcus declined the offer of a coach home so they could walk around and look at things. Lady Sybil waved them off “Do come again soon”.

Marcus’ comment as soon as they were safely out of earshot was “Not this month, or it will be my stomach that explodes”. They both agreed that in many ways a little of Lady Sybil’s company went a long way.

They walked home in a gentle curve, past Boggi’s Emporium, no connection to Sir Josiah Boggis of the Thieves guild, here you were relieved of your money in exchange for any one of the multitudinous forms of pointless ‘gifts’ tourists can be persuaded to buy. Arya and Marcus proved particularly resistant. Then they walked on through Hide Park where they slowed down to let Rincewind catch them up. Arya noted that the locals seemed keen on eating in the park and some groups were clearly work based. Arya was thus mildly embarrassed when a young man all in black approached and offered her a chicken leg based on the pin in her lapel. She and Marcus were still struggling to digest breakfast and possibly the previous night’s eleven courses and declined.

They crossed the river at the Ankh bridge, Marcus looked over the side “There was enough silt when we came through the river gates, but I’d hate to try and sail through this it’s almost like soup”. When they reached the far bank they found in front of them the Smuggler’s Guild building. “Well I suppose if they have thieves and assassins this was inevitable”.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go in and pay your dues”.

“Are you suggesting that I might not have paid all the port dues I had to”.

“Heaven forbid”, but she noticed that he popped back later in the afternoon.

They turned down the waterfront to get back to the ship and passed Harga’s House of Ribs, “Sam says we have to go in and try the Burnt Brown Crunchy Bits, it doesn’t matter what sort of ribs we have but the crunchy bits are what makes the meal”.

“He and Lady Sybil are something of a contrast aren’t they; I wonder how they got together”.

“He said to me while you two were still dressing that it was entirely her doing”.

Arya just laughed, "Shall we leave the Crunchy bits ‘til later”.

“I think so, I’m not sure I’m going to need supper never mind a meal earlier”.

Arya and her shadow left Marcus at the Petrel and move on to the Platter. Arya walked in and went to the bottom of the stairs. “I’m going up for a nap, care to join me”.

“In bed!” the look on Rincewind’s face told Arya all she needed to know.

“Why not, you might not be that young but you’re not that old either, so how about a bit of fun. There’s got be a local technique you can teach me, ‘The Morpork….” She got no further, Rincewind was half way back to the university and still accelerating. Arya took her nap in peace, Rincewind came back in time for supper.


	9. A short conversation

Arya was sitting alone in the Platter at a table for four with her back to the wall and three beers on the table, her small flagon, the special one and two normal size large ones. She was drinking very slowly from the small flagon. Two small but robust bodies approached the table, “Are these seats taken”.

“No and neither are the ales, sit down and help yourselves”.

“Thank you, that’s generous of you”.

“It’s calculated, it gets different people to talk to me. I’m, Arya Stark, just call me Arya. I’m a visitor so tell me something interesting”.

The two dwarfs seemed slightly confused by this approach, but one of them obviously decided they’d make an effort “I’m Hwel Glodsonson and this is Timkin Glodsonson, we’re siblings and I take it you don’t need us to tell you we’re dwarfs. We’re not known to be talkative people”.

“You sat down opposite me”.

“With every intention of drinking our ale in silence”.

“Oh sorry, I find most people sit down with someone else they either want to ask them questions or tell them something”.

“That would be humans”.

“So dwarfs are different”.

“A lot”.

“Would you mind expanding on that. You dodn’t have to be nice about humans either, I’m not impressed by most of my race, so feel free to be critical if you want”. Timkin gave her a ‘You asked for it’ look

“Well I’d say the biggest thing is you’re lazy, dwarf’s typically work sixteen hours a day in the mines, more on easy jobs above ground, a good meal and at most an hours _quiet_ drinking, a solid six hours sleep, up again for breakfast and so on and then back down to work. Ask a human to work more than eight hours and they want extra pay, higher rates, but you see that’s because they work for someone; dwarfish enterprises are all co-operatives so the less you work the less you make”.

“But there must always be slackers”.

“You can’t, twenty dwarfs shoulder to shoulder at a mineral face, swinging picks in unison and singing as they go to keep the rhythm; break rhythm and you’ll have your head in the path of the next dwarf’s backswing, which is generally a mistake you only get to make once; we call it natural selection. Then there’s the question of food”.

Hwel pulled out a disc, about four inches across and an inch thick and rapped it on the table; where it left a dent and took up the story. “There’s enough there to keep a dwarf going for a day, pulp it with a mattock, boil it for an hour or four and get it down you and you’re good to go for the rest of the day”.

“I’m sure I’ve seen dwarfs in here eating other food”.

“We’re not masochists, we’d live on caviar and champagne if we could, but we’re weaned to eat Dwarf Bread first, anything else we’ve worked for ourselves, which is another thing, how old are you”.

“Probably about fifteen”.

“Started work yet”.

“Not in the way you mean”, she didn’t think they’d consider what she’d been doing in the war as work.

“Twelve, which is puberty for a normal dwarf, as soon as you can see a beard, even if it’s a bit of blond bum fluff like young Carrot grew, you’re into the line, usually next to the your mother to make sure you don’t muck about”.

Something they’d said struck a chord, “Carrot, you don’t mean Captain Carrot of the City Watch”.

“Who else, do you know any other dwarf’s called Carrot”.

“I wasn’t aware he was a dwarf”.

“Well he wasn’t born one, but he was raised one and that’s good enough for us and him”.

“So it’s not about breeding, like horses and donkeys” Arya realise this might be a dodgy metaphor if mules came into the conversation “Or dogs and cats”.

“Well I’ll grant you there’s not many of us breed with humans but there’s no reason it can’t happen, once you get round the social issues”.

“Social issues”.

Timkin rejoined the conversation “We find you’re not very good at telling what sex we are. I’ve lost count of the number of ladies from the Seamstresses Guild who’ve approached me. Now I’m a liberal dwarf, but they seem to be disappointed by what they fail to find, or they would be if I bothered to lead them on”.

“So you’re a”

“I’m a dwarf, we don’t have any truck with that male/female rubbish. That’s another thing you humans get so het up about, jobs that are only for men or women”.

“Well I’m with you on that, one of the reasons I came over here was the expectation back in Westeros that I would have babies and run a house”.

“Oh you’re expected to do that, just as well as working the mine, male or female, the only difference is who actually pops the sprog out”.

“But surely while the babies on the way that’s very hard on the..”.

“No!, there you go again making sexist human assumptions. You can’t help it, it was how you were brought up, it’s too late now. Carrot you see, he was caught early so we only had one problem with him”.

“And what was that”.

“You’re not very bright are you, have you stood next to him, or even somewhere in the vicinity, say the same, what do you city folk call it, parish”.

“I’ve met the captain a few times”.

“Well let me give you a hint, a normal dwarf mine tunnel is a maximum of five feet high”.

“Oh”.

“His real name is Kzad-bhat, which means Head Banger, but his uncle told me it wasn’t really true, he just worked on his knees most of the time”.

“So I’d be alright in your tunnels”.

“Well you’d get in yes, but you wouldn’t last more than a half hour at the face working and there’s also the other issue”.

“Other issue”

“Well up in the mountains they’re not as liberal as those of us who’ve moved down here. There’s places where your absence of facial hair could cause trouble”.

“Why”.

“Well it would be like you walking around with your breeches and small clothes off down here. It’s all cultural, but that’s how it is”.

“So a visit would be out of the question”.

“Oh no go up there as a tourist and they’ll take you round and show you things and sell you souvenirs, the lot, but going to stop and live with them, that would be different. Go to the Ramtops, that’s where the dwarfs started from, there are mines up there going back centuries, natural caverns all sorts of things to see”.

“Well thank you it’s been very interesting, now I’ll leave you in peace”, and Arya slid out from behind the table and headed to her room, to get her map and find out where the Ramtops were.


	10. A plan is concocted

It first happened about a week after Arya arrived in Ankh-Morpork, she’d eaten rather too well and it was making her feel felt particularly tired so she went to bed early. Almost as soon as she was asleep she started to dream, only she very quickly realised that she wasn’t dreaming, she was warging and not to Nymeria, back, where ever back was, in Westeros. Arya found herself in the mind of a female wolf, a dominant female leading a pack. They were somewhere mountainous and they’d just fed, so her stomach felt full. Idly Arya wondered was that the connection.

It had been a long time and Arya felt like a small child let out of school, or as she saw it the clutches of Septa Mordane. The wolves ran, there was a bit of play/dominance fighting, the air was fresh and clean, so unlike the endless smell of horse dung in Ankh-Morpork. Marcus was right, there was nothing wrong with the smell of salt when the alternative was the smell of horse dung. With the nose of a wolf there were so many other scents, subtle, far distant but unmistakeable; some sort of deer, tomorrow night’s meal perhaps, the pack seemed to be going in that direction.

At one point there was the unmistakeable smell of human. The pack veered slightly to give it just a wide enough birth, but then stopped and Arya found herself looking at a small but neat cottage in the middle of the woods. Idly she wondered what sort of person would choose to live so far from other humans, and realised that one possible answer was herself. Recently the press of humanity and all the other anities had been getting at Arya, she’d been thinking of how nice it was on a small ship at sea. This was just as good, if not better, and going to live in a cottage in the woods might be even better still.

While she was making these observations she realised she was being watched. She turned her head and looked down, there was a small rodent, she thought a vole, peering at her from a tunnel entrance in the V of two large roots. Wolf instinct was coiled ready to spring, but Arya did her best to think, ‘sit still’. For at least a minute the unlikely pair stared at each other, in a completely unbelievable manner. Arya knew why the wolf hadn’t pounced, however futilely, she was holding it back, and after a while she came to a conclusion about why the vole had appeared and was staring at her instead of disappearing to the bottom of its burrow for safety. The only sensible reason was that someone was occupying the vole’s mind just as she was occupying the wolf’s.

The rest of the pack were getting restless, the alpha male came and jumped on her, which broke Arya’s concentration enough for the females mind to take control and turn and snap at him and then they were both off and running. From past experience Arya knew that staying in the mind too long had its risks, plus you got no sleep so she consciously felt for her own body, imagining it lying curled in bed in the tavern room and the world went black.

When Arya’s awareness next kicked in it was morning, for her late morning, she’d probably have missed breakfast except that Rerpf knew who his best customer was so despite the effort required to satisfy her new fad for Dwarf Bread porridge, it needed a dwarf to come in and do the powdering the night before, Arya pretty much got what she wanted and the advantage of Dwarf Bread porridge was that you left it to simmer overnight and just brought it to the boil when the customer woke up and wanted breakfast so her late arrival caused minimal disruption.

When Arya had finished breakfast she went downstairs expecting to find Rincewind, but was told he hadn’t turned up. On enquiry she was directed to the Mended Drum. While the whole of the rest of Ankh-Morpark had moved economically and socially upwards in the last few years, the Drum as fighting for all it was worth to retain the ambience of the ‘the old days’. As a result Arya had needle on her hip and her hand on the pommel as she walked in the door.

Spying Rincewind sitting staring rather morosely over the remains of his breakfast she walked over to his table.

“You talked about travelling with Two Flower one afternoon”.

Rincewind’s eyes widened and hope sprang into his face “Yes”

“Well I think I want to go travelling. I want to find some wolves in a mountainous area where there are small cottages in the woods”.

Rincewind’s look of enthusiasm disappeared to be replaced by one of, if not fear, then concern.

“I could recommend a lot of more pleasant places for a holiday, warmer, with friendlier inhabitants”.

“It isn’t a holiday it’s exploration, I want to see the wolf in its natural habitat and meet the sort of people who live alone in the woods. If there are mountains there might be dwarfs as well so I could go and see a mine or two”.

With each detail Rincewind’s face feel another notch.

“You’re not keen are you, I sometimes miss the more subtle signs but your face has just written me an essay saying ‘Please don’t make me do this’; why not”.

Rincewind looked up at her, was there a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Well let’s start with the simple things, wolves are intelligent carnivores, they hunt by picking out the weakling in the herd, isolating it chasing it to the point of exhaustion, killing it and eating it. I’m a good runner, I’ll back myself against any human and most other bipedal species, although I’ll grant you trolls are a bugger because their legs are so long, but you can dodge them. Wolves are quadrupeds; I’m just not in their league and we both know that”.

“But you’ll be with me, I’m not the weakling in the herd, I think they’ll know that”.

“And once they separate us”, there was not of resignation in his voice, he could feel the inevitability of a trip to the Ramtops washing over him like the incoming tide. “Then there’s the dwarfs, down here they’re cosmopolitan folk, they’ve travelled, they understand the need to fit in it”.

Arya raised her eyebrows.

“Well to a point, and that’s my point, up in the Ramtops, that’s their home and underground they figure you fit in to their ways, it’s no use parading your high flying liberal diversity statements, in the mines you’re a dwarf and if you aren’t you get hit on the head with something hard, not maliciously, you just got in the way and after that you get a visit from a figure on a white horse carrying a scythe and it’s all over”.

Arya avoided getting side-tracked into the person with the scythe, “Right well maybe the dwarfs will be a conversation at the mouth of the tunnel. I have spoken to a couple of them in the Platter and they said there are tours for tourists”.

Rincewind’s eyebrows said ‘Really’.

“The big thing is I just like the idea of being away from people so maybe finding a cottage in the woods that isn’t occupied and stopping for a awhile, having some ‘me’ time alone”.

At the words ‘finding a cottage in the woods’ Rincewind had gone very still, at the words ‘isn’t occupied and stopping’ he went positively white. “That bit you do by yourself, I don’t care what you offer me or threaten me with I’d rather deal with you than them”.

“Who”.

“You don’t know, you’ve been here now for a while and no one’s told you what lurks in the Ramtops and not just the Ramtops, they’ve been seen as far south as the chalk, they’re spreading. They’ll get here one day and then we’re all for it”.

“Who”.

Rincewind lowered his voice “The witches”. It went very quiet in the Drum, Arya noticed a few people leave and others moving tables to be sat father away from them.

The landlord came over “I heard that, if you want to talk like that you get out of my tavern, we have standards in here, they may not be high standards, but talking about ‘them’ will upset my regulars and I’m not pandering to some smart tourist who’ll be gone next week and losing my regular custom”.

Arya could see his point, which she considered was a tribute to Marcus so she walked outside dragging Rincewind with her. She could do tolerance, but only so much and she need to talk to him. It proved to be a bit difficult, every time she started the conversation she stopped the traffic. Twice an office of the watch told her to ‘move along now’. In the end they crossed half the city and ended up on Dragon’s Landing, where there was still some space to be found not quite covered by the new buildings.

“Now look I’m sure you’re exaggerating things. Just because no one in Ankh-Morpork has seen a witch they think they’re terrible. I’m sure they’re just harmless little old ladies practicing a bit of simple magic for the good of the local community. It’s just fear of the unknown and different, understandable but actually a bit silly”. Arya couldn’t help thinking that her next sentence ought to be ‘and I thought we’d effectively agreed I’m one’, but she realised that might well complicate matters so she kept the thought unspoken

“The Archchancellor knows one of them and he’s terrified of her. We’re forbidden to interfere in the Ramtops and in reality we just don’t go there”.

“It’s a sexist thing isn’t it. I’ve noticed all the wizards are men and a certain sort of men too, the ones who can’t cope with women. I’ll bet you’re scared of Lady Ramkin too”.

Rincewind’s face answered that question for her.

“Well I’m going to make preparations and take a trip to the Ramtops, I’m going to find a dwarf mine or two, some wolves and I’m going to call on a number of witches in their cottages. So if your job is to keep an eye on me for the UU in case any more unexplained things occur round me you are going to have to tag along, in which case you might as well make yourself useful and help me get it all organised.

In his head Rincewind could hear a voice saying ‘I don’t know why she needs to see witches, she’s behaving just like one now’. His mouth, proving what a good sense of survival he had, said “When do you want to leave”.

I’m not in a rush, get things organised, horses, provisions and so on, things we might find useful, we’re not on the run so, while we’re not taking carriages and a party of fifty, I’m not slumming it. Get it arranged, talk to Ridcully to explain what I’m doing and then let me know when you’re ready for us to set off. But”, and here she paused for emphasis “Don’t just do nothing in the hope I’ll forget or get distracted”.

Rincewind’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “Shall we say a week’s time”.

“Why not” and Arya walked off in the direction of the Palace with the intention of taking Wuffles a few tit bits and thus being able to mention to the Patrician where she was going, in a conversational way just so he knew.


	11. A friend in need is not a pain in the a**e

It was only a couple of nights later when Arya went to bed and as she undressed, well down to her shirt; after Ymor’s nocturnal visit she thought a little discretion was best, she noticed the full moon shining in the sky and couldn’t help thinking of Angua. There were monthly cramps and there was her problem. It’s always good to remember that there are always others in a deeper mess than you.

Arya probably should have seen it coming, but almost as soon as she fell asleep she found herself in the mind of a wolf, an angry, hungry wolf pacing around in a very limited space. It immediately became apparent that Angua knew she was there “Who the hell are you and get the **** out of my head”.

“Angua it’s Arya, remember from the ship a few weeks ago”.

“I remember you, making puppy eyes at Carrot. Look I don’t know what you’re doing or how you’re doing it but this isn’t the time. It’s worse than normal this month, I’ve had to get Carrot to box me in for everyone’s safety, so just go away will you”.

Just for a second Arya thought ‘Stuff you, pace and get ratty then’, but something else made her think otherwise. “Wouldn’t it be better if we talked, take your mind off _other things_ ”. Arya took silence as not rejection.

“So first off I’m sorry about making eyes at Carrot, I mean he is a bit of a hunk isn’t he, you’re not with him for his intellect are you. Not that he’s stupid, but I think we both see the same thing in him”.

“Yes well, you just make sure you keep your hands off that thing, or I’ll rip your head off and good as you may be with that sword I’m so fast you’ll be dead before you could get it out of its scabbard”.

Arya heard the certainty in Angua’s voice and decided on what she thought of as the Marcus approach “So tell me about it, how does it all work”.

“What do you mean how does it work, I’m not a machine”.

“No, sorry, that came out wrong, sometimes I’m bad with words, just tell me about yourself, about being a werewolf”.

“Well most of the time I’m just like you except I still have a very superior sense of smell and my reactions are a lot quicker. I don’t think about springing at someone, you know if you touch something hot you hand moves away of its own accord, well if I’m threatened and I go for you it works the same way. An Igor showed me a body once and pointed out all the nerves going to the brain, but he also pointed out that there are links that make a shorter loop. I think my spring reaction works that way”.

“An Igor, I don’t think I’ve met an Igor yet”.

Angua laughed, for a second Arya wondered how a wolf could laugh and then realised this conversation was going on in their mutual consciousnesses, “Well if you like big men you might like an Igor, but I suspect not, they’re undead, like vampires, they’re all pretty large, a bit pale and the look like they’ve been stitched together, which some of them have. They’re the best surgeons in the city and they also do investigations on corpses”.

“Euch”.

“Oh sorry, you don’t believe in reincarnation of the actual body do you, like in Djelibeybi”.

“No, it’s just the idea of fiddling around inside someone make me feel a bit queasy”.

“Well there’s another difference between you and me then because the first time I attended, what they call an autopsy, the moment they opened the victim up I had to resist the urge to stick my nose in and eat all the best bits. Carrot knows so I don’t go to them anymore, after all destroying evidence is a serious issue for a member of the watch”.

Well that was one way to look at it, Arya considered there were others. Arya couldn’t help noting that Agua had stopped pacing and was now laying down. She was still panting a bit, but she was clearly a lot calmer than she had been. “Feeling better”.

“Yes I am. You know I think I was wrong about you, my first impression was you were a bit too much like a simple killer and at some point we’d have to sort it out that way, but now I think we can learn to understand each other”.

“Good I’m glad about that, because once it was too close to being true for my liking. It’s probably the real reason I left Westeros, Three months on the ship talking to the skipper and I’m trying to be a different person now”.

“Well we have that in common then. On a good month I just raid someone’s chicken pen and then go and slip some money under their door the next morning in compensation, but even that makes me a bit embarrassed. What set this month off so badly I don’t know, I just found I’ve been getting angry for no reason for a couple of days and as soon as the change started I knew I needed to be in a cage. Fortunately Carrot got me into the cells and threw the two drunks out in time”.

“I know this sounds like prying and I know some humans get upset talking about it but do you have the other monthlies, like I do”.

“Oh you mean the bleeding, yes but only once a year. Gods this is becoming a bit of a confessional, one last thing, I do have to fight the inclination to lick my own crotch regularly, but it’s not too hard to do because in human form I can’t reach”.

“Do you think you might be close, I can get tense before I start to bleed”.

“You may be right it’s been about a year. I think I may need to book a few days’ holiday then”.

“I could show you how to cope with the blood”.

“No not for that, wolf oestrus isn’t like a human feeling a bit randy, I really go for it, basically for a few days I want to mate with anything that comes within reach, so Carrot and I just shut ourselves inside with a good supply of rubbers and keep going until he’s worn out”.

“Rubbers, sorry that’s a new word”.

“How old are you”.

“About fourteen or fifteen, but I’ve lead a grown up life, I’m not a child”.

“Right, well this feels a bit like I’m practicing for if I have puppies, but you know how a man and a woman fit together right”.

“Yes, I’ve had a go, it was fun, but I did get a bit panicky in case I got with child”.

“Right well, they take the sap from some trees over in Farferee, Ghat and the Rehigreed Provinces where it’s warm near the rim and they smear it over bananas, you know the yellow fruit that looks vaguely like a man’s..”.

“Yes I know the ones, the librarian eats them doesn’t he”.

“That’s the things, they’re his staple diet. Anyway after a while the sap dries out and makes a stretchy sort of bag. They roll them up and sell them in little packets, usually of three. I think that’s because men like to think they might use three in one evening, although in my experience they can’t often. Cut Me Own Throat Dibbler has the best range of different ones, but I wouldn’t bank on them to work they’re more for fun. Normally you get them from a barber-surgeon’s, an Igor’s. When you’ve had your haircut they ask you ‘Anything for the weekend’ and you just say how many packth you want. They’re not fool proof they need rolling on carefully, you need to leave a bit of space at the tip for what’s going to appear, but nip it closed so there isn’t any air in there. Then when he’s done the deed you need to get him out before he shrivels up and it slips off”.

“Right, in Westeros we have another method involving taking herbs afterwards to make you bleed straight away, but it can be a bit dangerous. This sounds a lot better, I might give them a go”.

“Steady on Arya, you may be grown up but you shouldn’t be having sex just to see how a rubber works. I spend enough time in human from to know you should be finding the right man, if only in case things go wrong”.

“That’s my big problem, I’m a bit odd, I’m not sure there is a right man for me”.

“Ah, um you’re not looking in the wrong direction are you”.

“Sorry”.

“This is getting trickier, I don’t understand your culture and some groups get very, in my view, overexcited about the whole sex thing. I don’t want to say something that will upset you”.

I get upset when people or things try to kill me, otherwise just keep going”.

“Right well, some women prefer other women”.

“Oh no, I know all about that, no I definitely prefer a man. I think what bothers me is the ‘for ever’ bit and the ‘raising a family’ bit”.

“Yes Carrot and I have issues on that front, people will turn a blind eye to us being lovers because we do that in private, if they can’t see us they can pretend in their minds it isn’t happening; but if puppies came along they’d have to face up to what it meant and even in Ankh-Morpork there are ‘a step too far’ issues. Some people can only be liberal up to the moment it actually affects them”.

“Feeling better”.

“Yes I am, so can I go back to my original question but in a nicer way. How do you do this”.

“I’m pretty sure it runs in the family so it’s some sort of innate ability. I don’t feel I’m doing anything I just go to sleep and it happens. If I set it off it’s some sort of involuntary response. I used to do it regularly with a Direwolf back in Westeros. Since I came here it’s happened once before with a wild wolf. I think she was somewhere in the Ramtops and then tonight with you. I did see the full moon and think of you just before I went to sleep”.

“That might be enough, maybe other nights you have thought about wolves and just not really realised later. By the way what’s a Direwolf”.

“Just a bigger breed maybe half as large again as a normal wolf. They can run together in packs, the last time I ran with Nymeria she was alpha female in her own pack of ordinary wolves”.

“You gave her a name”.

“Yes she was my pet from being a cub until I had to get rid of her to avoid her being killed. I’m sorry is that something you don’t approve of”.

“No, there’s a dog in the city Gaspode, he’s a bit odd and he speaks Morporkian but he’s sort of my pet. He doesn’t come home with me or anything, but we meet up most days and I feed him quite a bit, so I feel responsible for him”.

“In the end that’s what scares me, being responsible for someone else. Maybe it’s because I lost my parents aged nine but I feel isolated a lot and I’m not sure I know how to make the links”.

“Well I started this evening prepared to rip your head off and now I think we have a lot in common and you’re getting a big hug when I finally wake up tomorrow for what you’ve done tonight, so I think you might be worrying unnecessarily”.

“I’m still not sure, one night is one thing, years, or the rest of my life, that’s different”.

“But you’ve taken a step in the right direction and every journey, however long, starts with one step”.

“Now you’re starting to sound like Marcus, the skipper on the ship, he’s always full of little sayings like that”.

“And do you care about Marcus”.

Arya paused before answering that, “Yes I do, he’s a bit like the father I didn’t have for so many years”.

“Have you ever told him that”.

“No”.

“Why not”.

There was an even longer pause “Do you think I should”

“Yes, I think you’ll feel better about yourself when you have and I’m sure you’ll make him happy”.

There was another long silence “Can we do this again tomorrow night”.

“Yes, in fact if you come and see me in the afternoon and we shut ourselves in my room I think we can get through the night like that and it should make it easier for me to join with you. Do you think that would work”.

“Yes I do, oh and this is going to make you laugh, Angua is my family name, my first name’s Delphine, but no one ever uses it”.

Arya didn’t laugh, but neither did she ever use it.

\--------------------------------------------

If you’re awake all night even if it’s inside someone else’s body, you tend to sleep a good part of the day so Arya had barely had breakfast before Angua arrived with Carrot. As she’d warned her Angua gave Arya a big hug, which made her blush, something she couldn’t remember doing for a long time. Carrot said he was very grateful for Arya helping Angua and he was very sorry he hadn’t realised she was a girl and that was very embarrassing because once he looked closely it was obvious she wasn’t just a girl but a very pretty girl and he might have kept going if Angua hadn’t dug him in the ribs with her elbow, which had made Carrot blush and Arya laugh and then she gave Carrot a quick hug, just a quick one since she knew Angua was sat there next to him. After that they had a small meal, Carrot went back to work a night shift and the two women went upstairs to Arya’s room.

After the drama and tension and emotions of the previous night it was a quiet time, Angua changed and lay on the floor, Arya lay down and snuggled up to her and fell asleep thinking of her. The contact was immediate and they spent the rest of the night discussing all the things a young woman in foreign lands might discuss with a slightly older woman who knew the locality.


	12. Heading North

Rincewind assured Arya that the place she was looking for was called Lancre. The coach road went via Sto Lat to Sto Helis across the great plains of cabbages to Zemphis. From there the route started to rise and the Ankh started to flow a bit more like a normal river and less like a mobile tube of silt. Rather illogically the main road didn’t follow the river up the valley to Ohulan Cutash but took a route across a range of hills. By this time you’d left the Klacks behind and things were getting rather heavily wooded and the hills were getting steep. Finally you made it to Lancre where the tributary of the Ankh splashed and gambolled in the sort of frivolous way Arya might in very little clothing, so unlike the lower river which moved more like Lady Sybil fully dressed for dinner. All told it was 600 miles as the crow flies and nearer 750 as the road wandered so it would take them three weeks if they took the occasional day’s rest.

The Klacks fascinated Arya, both the idea and the practicalities of sending messages by signal and she sent several messages back to Marcus about their journey and was pleased to receive replies indicating that he and the crew were well and entirely ungainfully employed sampling the assorted Taverns in the city. Otherwise the first part of their journey was not entirely to her liking. Arya’s aversion to cabbage was of long standing and far too much squatting down and Rincewinds attempts to spot fields of new varieties, including the even more efficacious roughage the Sto-Sprouts fell largely on deaf ears. What did improve her temper was the increasing frequency with which she made contact with the wolves at night. By the time they left Ohulan Cutash for the last day’s ride of about fifteen miles she felt she knew where she was going, in her mind was a smell map of the Lancre area and she knew the cottage she’d first seen and which had reappeared as the wolves ran round it at regular intervals was just outside Bad Ass.

Arya and Rincewind parted company about five miles short of Lancre. Rincewind was to take both the horses, which had been getting increasingly nervous at the smell of passing wolf into Lancre, find a tavern and wait. Rincewind seemed as happy with this plan as the horses, as though he could smell the witch Arya was approaching.

By the time Arya had passed through Bad Ass the sun was heading for the horizon and since the horizon it was heading for was the top of the Ramtop mountains it didn’t have as far to go as it might nearer the rim. Combined with the tree cover progress slowed considerably, but just as Arya was beginning to consider having to spend the night in the forest she came to a small clearing and saw the cottage she was looking for.

Granny Weatherwax was sat just outside the door waiting for her, enjoying a couple of last sunrays that had manged to slip over the mountains and through the trees to bathe an area of just one rocking chair, just where she liked to sit and watch people approaching. Her initial impression was not favourable. The sword, however small, hanging from Arya’s right hip was not what Granny expected of a witch and Granny knew that Arya was a witch and had known it from the night the vole watched the wolf looking at her cottage.

Granny has some fairly set ideas about what constituted appropriate garments for a witch and while Arya’s, by now somewhat travel worn, leathers met the twin criteria of serviceable and not excessively showy, the lack of a dress or skirt did not meet the one for obviously female. She also didn’t approve of the lack of a hat of some sort, if only because they were far enough above sea level for the wind to be cold even in the summer. “If she tells me her name is Sam, short for Samantha, I shall be very displeased” Granny muttered to herself. Still the girl had stopped briefly at the edge of the woods at what must have been her first sight of the cottage but had immediately started forward again and was walking towards her with a firmness of step that said she wasn’t the sort to dither or prevaricate, which was a good sign. As Arya closed on her Granny Weatherwax remained seated and made no move to acknowledge the girls approach.

Arya knew she was being watched from the moment she saw the cottage. The last rays of sunshine were illuminating a rocking chair in which was sat a quite tall and very thin old lady all in black wearing a pointed hat. The tip of the hat had fallen over but that didn’t really detract from the look of ‘Grandmother who is in Charge’. Just for a second Arya considered that the costume was an exact copy of that of the wizards of UU except in plain black instead of the rich burgundy, marked with a variety of sigils preferred in Ankh-Morpork. Somehow she also knew that this was an observation best kept to herself.

As she walked to wards the woman it was obvious she was being watched and not just by the goats; and Arya was quite sure being judged. It was also obvious that she was not going to be addressed. Arya was the visitor it was up to her to make appropriate declarations. Arya remembered her first visit to see the Patrician and the throne at the top of the dias that he pointedly didn’t sit in. At this moment Arya felt that she was looking up at a very large throne on a massive dias. Well best diplomatic foot forward “Good evening Ma’am, my name is Arya Stark of Westeros I’ve seen your cottage from Ankh-Morpork and I thought it might be a good idea to visit”.

Granny had to admit to herself that she was impressed, if the girl could borrow from 600 miles away she had natural talent, however there was no need to tell her that as it would just make her big headed.

“You mean you’ve seen my cottage from over there”, she pointed to exactly where the wolf routinely stood by the single largest tree on the edge of the garden.

“Yes and you’ve watched me a couple of times from a burrow that comes out in the fork in the tree’s roots, where the wolf can’t dig, so we’ve really met before, although not on very even terms, you must have very good control to overcome a vole’s fear of a wolf and make it sit there. I can just about nudge the wolf in the right direction and I was hanging on with all my might to stop her pouncing”.

“And you succeeded so clearly you are a witch. You do realise that”.

“Yes, but I didn’t until I started talking to Rincewind in Ankh-Morpork only a month or two ago”.

“Rincewind, he’s one of Ridcully’s wizards isn’t he”.

“Yes, he’s been kind enough to help me get here”.

Arya could feel the temperature drop and it wasn’t because the sun had finally given up its fight and retreated behind the mountains. “Witches and wizards don’t mix”.

“I don’t think we’re mixing, more he’s following me so I thought I might as well make use of him”.

“Well I approve of making use of him. It may be the first time a wizards ever done something useful, but why may I enquire is he following you. I trust it is not in the least bit a sexual connection”.

“No it’s because of how I got here, the wizards are worried I might go back taking parts of The Disc with me”.

“But he isn’t following you now”.

“I left him to find a tavern in Lancre; he seemed to find the idea of getting any closer to here frightening”.

“Good, well come in, now it’s gone dark we can have some supper and a chat before we start the nights work. My names Esmerelda Weatherwax, commonly known as ‘Granny’, but if you’re going to be my pupil I think Mistress Weatherwax will be more suitable for now”.

Just for a second too many things were going on in Arya’s brain, the one name Rincewind had mentioned was Granny Weatherwax, she was the one the Archchancellor was terrified of, and Arya hadn’t come here to be her pupil, had she.

“Well don’t stand there, come inside and shut the door behind you. I’m not a dictatorial teacher it isn’t yes Mistress Weatherwax, no Mistress Weather wax every two seconds, but you are not even one fifth of my age so I could actually be your great granny and I think that deserves a little respect. You’ve been alone a lot haven’t you child”.

Arya wasn’t just biting her tongue she was positively chewing the end off, but when she did the maths, Granny was in her late seventies and then she considered how much she’d learned between the ages of nine and fourteen or fifteen, she really must decide on a birthday and settle that matter, she realised that the old lady, and yes she definitely was an _old_ lady had a point. “Yes mistress Weatherwax”. By this time they were inside the cottage, Arya shut the door.

Granny sat herself down in what was clearly the best seat by the fire, “I’m sure you can manage to make us supper, the hare is in the pot and there are plenty of root vegetables in with it, the bread is in the basket there, you can see the plates and the cutlery is in the top left drawer of the dresser behind me”.

Well Granny had caught a hare, Arya wasn’t sure she’d ever eaten hare before, and cooked it and baked the bread so it seemed churlish not to be prepared to serve it out “Yes mistress Weatherwax”.

“Good girl, now some girls like me, yes I was a little girl your age once, decide to be witches and others have it thrust upon them. I suspect you fall into the second category”.

“Well I’m not sure I want to be a witch, but I’ve been able to go into the mind of a wolf from an early age. At first it was one specific direwolf I’d raised as a puppy, but since I came to The Disc it’s been more general and excepting a werewolf in Ankh-Morpork the wolves are always somewhere around here”.

“What did the werewolf think of having you in her mind”.

Arya noticed she’d said ‘her’, was that an assumption or knowledge. Arya couldn’t think of ever being in a male's mind.

“Yes I said her, because you’ll have to work very hard to borrow a male and if you do you may not like what you find, but please answer my question, how did she respond”.

“Sorry, well initially she wasn’t happy, we weren’t on entirely friendly terms as people, but after we’d talked for a bit we became friends, she hugged me the night after and changed in my room so we could be together”.

“And have you made contact when she isn’t in wolf form”.

“No”.

“Have your tried”

“No”.

“If you don’t think your friend would mind I’d like you to try, not tonight but later on. In this respect you know more than me and I’m still not too old to learn more. Now put the plates on the table, I have standards, we don’t dress for dinner or anything but we do sit at the table”.

Arya put the plates on the table as instructed and they sat down and ate in silence. The hare had a strong gamey flavour Arya really enjoyed and there wasn’t a cabbage leaf in site. The bread was brown and dense, nowhere near Dwarf Bread but also not the fluffy white products of the better bakers in Ankh-Morpork. When they’d finished the main course Arya was directed to a jar containing honey cakes, which melted in her mouth and felt almost like eating neat honey from the hive. The main course had been accompanied by a small flagon of beer for each of them from a barrel in one corner.

They finished and Granny stood up, “Do you want to wash or dry”.

“I’ll wash if you don’t mind”.

“Carry on then and while you’re doing that you can start from the very beginning and tell me everything”.

“You’re the second person to ask me that since I’ve arrived”.

“How unobservant of all the others, who was the one intelligent woman in Ankh-Morpork”.

“Actually it was the Patrician”.

“Ah, my mistake, I do make them you see, yes Havelock Vinatieri is no fool. Do you think he’s worried about you running off with half his city”.

“He didn’t seem it; he seemed more concerned that I didn’t feed Wuffles too many titbits”.

“Quite correct a dog needs a couple of decent meals a day nothing more. They’ve been with humans too long to gorge like a wolf does and then last three or four days, but they shouldn’t be allow to scrounge, it teaches them bad habits. On which subject we eat a good breakfast and supper, if we’re working really hard in the garden we may have a light lunch. Now clearly you don’t remember being born but anything you’ve been told may be useful”.

It took Arya all the washing up and the rest of the evening. By the time she’d finished the moon was up and almost heading down again and she’d heard at least one wolf howl in the woods.

“Well that has been an eventful life and not all of it terribly pleasant but you seem to have born up and come through it all. If you want to talk about things either to ask questions or just to help get it sorted in your own mind then say so, but I’m not going to go back over your life again unless we find a specific reason. Now it’s getting late so I think we’ll go to bed and please don’t try to go borrowing tonight. If it happens it happens but just fall asleep thinking relaxing thoughts about the wind in the trees or something”.

Granny showed Arya into a small room, just enough space for the single bed and a small chest of drawers to hold her clothes. The gazunder was pointed out and Arya left to her own devices.


	13. So this is witchcraft

Arya slept well and didn’t make any contact with a wolf that night. In the morning she got up and made ordinary porridge for breakfast using goat’s milk which she found tasted a lot better with a large dollop of honey. After the domestic bit of the day had been sorted Granny took her outside and they both sat on the porch

“So now I know all I need to know about your history we can move on to the present. You’re here and in your mind you’re staying here until you’ve achieved what, because you didn’t come this way just to say hello and eat an excessive amount of my honey”.

Arya let her mouth work with her brain, “Well I haven’t really thought it out. When I was out there” she indicated the forest, “I knew I wanted to come and see you, but I’m not sure why. I don’t think I want to become a witch, I’m not sure I’m enough of a people person. I think I could live alone in the woods, but I might get to like it and not come back out”.

“Borrowing can be like that, stay too long in the mind of an animal and you lose too much of yourself to get out”.

“Can I just check, by borrowing you mean being in the mind of an animal”

“Yes, we call it that because we’re borrowing the animal, if you know what you’re doing you’re in complete control. It’s also something I do when I want to not when it happens by accident”.

“Then I think I need to learn to borrow in a more controlled manner”.

“Good because so do I, for your own safety and if you’re going to go borrowing a werewolf to avoid you spoiling a good friendship. You may be a little girl but you’re not a child, you wouldn’t want to be in her mind when she was being intimate with the man Carrot would you”.

“No, and more to the point I’m sure she wouldn’t want me there”.

“Exactly, so I will teach you to borrow safely and keeping everything under your control. I will also show you a little precaution to take while you’re doing it. If while we’re doing that other things come up and you want to learn I will teach you, if not then you may leave when I’m happy you have your power under control”.

“Are we going to stop here all the time”.

“Heavens no, unlike you I am not a potential recluse, we shall go and see a couple of other local witches and we may need to go and see other people for other purposes, birth and death, sickness and most likely to assuage their nosiness. Your arrival here will not have gone unnoticed and they will want to know in the village whether I’ve taken on an apprentice, just as much as your father’s tenants would have wanted to see a new potential master, not that that’s my position, but you understand”

“Yes”.

“Good along the way, food will have to be cooked, pots washed, the garden tended and you will be expected to do your share”.

“Of course”.

“Good, when I first saw you in those breeches I’ll admit I had my reservations and I may well put you into more appropriate garb for us to visit Bad Ass or Lancre. You’ll find people up her are considerably more conservative than me and a person in trousers will generally be taken to be male until proven otherwise”.

“I’m quite happy to be taken for a man”.

“Not while you are in training to be a witch, which is what you are while ever you sleep under my roof. When Ridcully lets a second woman in to UU I’ll consider starting to train men to be witches, although I don’t think they’ll have the aptitude”.

“There’s been a woman at UU”.

“Yes and it didn’t go well. She was the seventh child of a seventh child of a magician. She was extremely powerful and they didn’t know how to handle her, which rather proves they’re not half as clever as they think”.

Arya filed that away under ‘awkward questions to ask someone else later’.

So Granny started to train Arya; there were a few hiccups, usually associated with Arya’s unwillingness to be controlled and/or Granny’s inclination to assume that everyone did as she expected, but by and large no problems with the actual wolves. Arya declined to use other animals, but learned how to initiate a borrowing and how to get back and steadily to stay in the borrowed body longer and exert more control. Granny warned her of the risk of being assume dead if you were found while borrowing and Arya prepared her own ‘I’m not dead, I’m just somewhere else’ card.

Nany Ogg came to call and Arya discovered that it wasn’t necessary to be the sort of personality that Granny Weatherwax was to be a witch, also that having husbands plural, and children was perfectly acceptable. It was while Nanny Ogg was present that Granny got Arya into a skirt and bodice. Arya suspected Granny might just have felt Arya was going to be troublesome and brought in reinforcements but Arya had thought it through. If she could wear the concoction Lady Sybil had forced her into nothing Granny had could be anywhere near as bad and she was right. She didn’t object but she did just enquire, “You’re the second person who’s put me in a dress and said no small clothes, is there a reason”.

“Well I can’t speak for anyone else, but fresh air is good for you, healthier. Even had an irritation”.

“A couple of times, when it’s difficult to keep clean”.

“Well you’ll not get one if you let the fresh air circulate”.

“It feels a bit different”.

“More than being in the mind of a wolf”.

“No”.

“So it won’t take you half as long to get used to it” and to be honest it didn’t.

Now she was properly dressed Arya went out with Granny to two births and a departure, performed a few menial tasks for old people too old to do it for themselves, she’d never thought and old man might appreciate having his excess ear hair trimmed so he could hear better; and picked up a few tips on getting what you wanted without throwing a hissy fit or pulling out Needle. In fact Needle stayed in the cottage for the duration of her training, the dagger worn discreetly was another matter. “It’s just a knife; wear like it’s just a knife and no one will worry”.

After what seemed like a very short time but when she checked a calendar turned out to be a month Granny announced that they were to go to Lancre to meet the Queen.

“Really, am I looking silly by saying I’m a bit surprised”.

“You’ve probably met some high ranking ladies in Ankh-Morpork and you’re assuming this is going to be the same. Well it’s not, firstly because Lancre is very small, but mostly because Magrat is a witch”.

“Oh, which came first, sorry bad pun, but you know what I mean”.

“Magrat was a witch before she met and married the King, who you should be aware was The Fool before he was encouraged to take the top job. She is a be a bit of a wet hen, but she’s very good with herbs and potions and despite her appearance, she looks like she just been blown across the kingdom, she’s been known to fight armies single handed”.

“There doesn’t seem to be a pattern for being a witch then”.

“No that would be silly, that’s what the wizards do, try and jam everyone into a mould so they come out identical. People aren’t like that, you find what they’re good at and you exploit it and build on it”.

“Commander Vimes of the City Watch said the same about the different species in the watch”.

“Then Commander Vimes is man it might be worth listening to occasionally”.

The visit was everything Arya didn’t expect, the castle was small and Magrat met them at the door and seemed to do quite a bit of the work of making tea and the like herself. Part way through the day, which Granny had told Magrat when they arrived “Is just a social call, a day of for Arya from learning to borrow” Arya remembered Rincewind.

“Can I leave you two chatting and pop into town and see a friend”.

“The wizard you came up with”.

“Yes”.

“He’s probably got bored and gone home by now”.

“No he hasn’t he’s in the Goat and Bush and before you say anything Granny, he’s been no trouble at all”.

“You’re not my slave or even my servant girl, off you go”.

“Do I need to be back by any particular time”.

“No we can walk home in the dark, there’s nothing out there I’m afraid of”.

“Granny do you mind”.

“No off you go with her Magrat. I can’t imagine there’s any attraction in a second rate wizard, but you can have a good gossip about me behind my back while you walk there and back”

“Granny, as if we would”.

“More fool you if you don’t. I told Arya plenty about you while we were on the our way here and I intend to find out what she thinks on the way home, so I’m not stupid enough or arrogant enough to expect you to be any different, you’re a witch Magrat Garlick”.

And so as they walked down the hill into the town and to the Goat and Bush and most of the way back Magrat quizzed Arya, largely Arya realised about herself and in particular why she was with Granny.

“To summarise it was one part, it just seemed like I wanted to come here and one part I want to understand about borrowing and one part what’s it like living in the woods by yourself”.

“Do you think you’ll stop”.

“No I’ve realised Granny sees a lot of people and it wouldn’t be healthy if she didn’t, I’ve learned to borrow properly or I will have if I pass my test in a couple of days so I’ll probably pick Rincewind up and go back to Ankh-Morpork”.

“You’re not tempted to learn other skills, flying a broom for example”.

“Not at the moment, I could always come back couldn’t I”

“Oh yes, if Granny summoned you and didn’t throw you out on the first night you’ll always be welcome back. You’re a witch, you probably have been for longer than you realised so you’ll always be welcome up here, with any of us”.

“Do you think she summoned me”.

“Oh yes that ‘one part it just seemed like I wanted to some here’ was Granny summoning you”.

“But how did she know about me to summon me”.

“You’d have to ask Granny that but if she hasn’t told you you may not get a straight answer, sometimes you just have to treat Granny like a force of nature”.

In amongst the conversation they found Rincewind. Arya didn’t mention that Magrat was a witch. Rincewind was perfectly happy and told her to take as long as she liked and just drop by on her way home to pick him and the horses up.

Two days later Arya spent thirty hours in the alpha female of the local wolfpack, including coming into Granny’s cottage, not scent marking it, going and finding some missing sheep and herding them back to the field they belonged in, while Granny walked across to close the gate behind them, before returning to her body and answering a whole string of questions to prove she hadn’t left half her memory in the wolf.

“Well that’s it girl. I don’t think I can teach you anything else about borrowing. The rest is experience”.

“Thank you mistress Weatherwax”

“I think we can dispense with that now, you can call me Granny”

“Thank you”.

“Good now nip out and milk the goats because you still need some practice at that if the milk’s to end up in the pail”.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The conversation resumed later that evening

“So where are you off next”.

“How easy would it be to get to a dwarf mine from here”

“In the copperheads, a good day’s walk there and back, nothing more”.

“And would they be sociable and let me have a look round”.

“If you’ve learned anything from me while you’ve been here yes they will”.

“Should I mention your name”.

“Only if you have to and I don’t think you will”.

So the next morning Arya packed up and headed for the copperheads.

“Don’t forget to try the werewolf when you get home and write and tell me how it goes. That’s important”.

“No Granny, good bye”.


	14. The first hour in the mine is the worst

There was a road to the copperheads out of Lancre so Arya had little chance of getting lost. Soon she found herself passing carts of ore and it was a simple process to find the entrance to a mine. It wasn’t a big mine, just a drift tunnel running into the hillside, but it seemed as good a place as any to ask politely so Arya waited patiently until an empty wagon came back up the hill. The human driver unhitched the horses and two dwarfs came out to push the wagon into the tunnel.

“Would an extra pair of hands help”.

“Do bears….”

Arya took that as a yes and leant into the side of the wagon to help push it underground

“Does your mum know you’re out”.

“Yes”.

That provoked a look that said the lookee didn’t quite approve.

“Well you’re a big ‘un still to not have to shave, just do whatever I tell you or there’ll be trouble”

“I will”.

Together they pushed the wagon down the shaft. It was a tight fit and Arya realised if she ever grew more than another inch her head would be in contact with the roof as well. After a while and several turns they stopped at a slightly wider piece of tunnel that allowed a dwarf to pass round the wagon. Two came round and one gave Arya a very hard look.

“Do I know your mother youngster”.

Arya decide the time for pretence was past, “No, I’m not a dwarf, I’m a tourist. Some dwarfs in Ankh-Morpork told me if I came north you’d show me round a mine”.

“That’s the show mines up in Űberwald, this is a working drift, we don’t normally do tourists, it costs lost production”.

“I can pay”, Arya flashed a couple of Dragons and watched the mind behind the face do some mental arithmetic”.

“For one of those you can come and watch a line working, not join in mind, it’s too risky and beside we’re not having the hassle when something goes wrong”.

“Why would something go wrong”.

“Dwarf bairns are brought up to nursery rhymes in the rhythm of mining, it’s ingrained in them from birth. You haven’t been, the chances of you getting out of rhythm are too high and then you get hurt, probably fatally, mattocks don’t really do ‘scrapes and scratches’. Now if you’re a dwarf that’s life or rather a normal death. These are our standards, but a human we’d have Elf and Safety round in no time telling us what we could and couldn’t do. I don’t know how anyone thinks Elfs are safe, best kept in their own world if you ask me, but that’s how it works. You don’t get it, different world different rules. We know what you get up to down in Ank-Morpork, turning good working dwarfs into harlots wearing skirts and makeup and other sick things. Well they chose to go there so it’s their look out, but up here it’s our mine, our rules”.

“Yes I understand that, maybe I could help with some of the other tasks like loading wagons, that can’t be as dangerous”.

“I’ll see, follow me. At least you’re a sensible height so I don’t have to keep saying ‘duck’ every two paces ”.

So Arya followed the dwarf down the seam “What are you mining, I’m afraid being an ignorant city girl it all looks like rock to me”.

“We’re in the Copperhead Mountains isn’t that a hint”.

“Ah, so the rocks a mixture of…”

“Copper, iron and sulphur. It has to be processed and heated and so on to produce the pure metal, we do that further down the hill”.

“Not in the mine”.

“No the fumes would kill us all”.

“But you do live down here”.

“Oh yes, once a seam’s worked out the furniture goes in, we do everything but cook underground. You probably saw the porridge pot as you came in the entrance”.

Arya realise she had “Yes, except I’m afraid I thought it was part of the smelting process”.

“No you’d need a bigger fire than that to smelt copper, never mind iron, those few bits of wood will only get the pot up to boiling point not the thousand degrees you’d need”.

“So an ordinary fire isn’t good enough “No you have to build a kiln type structure. There’s some further down the hill you can’t miss them if you just follow an ore wagon”.

By this time Arya could hear singing and then they came round the corner and she saw them, a row of fifty dwarfs, literally shoulder to shoulder. She’d been told but she had to admit you have to see it to really believe it. Twenty strokes with the pick end freeing the rock, then twenty with the blade moving it down the seam.

“Come on then if you want to join in” and the dwarf gave her a shovel and started loading the nearest wagon.

Arya manged about fifteen minutes, by which time her arms were screaming at her to stop and she was drenched in sweat. The dwarf didn’t seem surprised or bothered

“And they keep that up for sixteen hours non-stop”.

“Oh no, we all take a five minute…. _teabreak_ every two hours, but you won’t be here for that”.

They walked back out, part way Arya joined in pushing a wagon without being asked so she emerged from the shaft back into daylight with her guide walking behind her watching her.

“Not bad for a human, particularly since you’re so small”. She leaned in so her mouth was close to Arya’s ear “And you’re….. _female_ aren’t you”.

Arya didn’t know why but she whispered her reply “Yes”.

The dwarf straightened up “Then have this one on us. What’s your name”.

“Arya Stark of Winterfell”

“Winterfell, never heard of it. Still once I’m out of the Ramtops in general I’m lost. If I put Winterfell on a letter will it get to you”.

Arya considered the effort some poor postman would have to undertake to achieve that delivery, worse than the postman in Newark NJ USA who realised he had a letter for Newark-on-Trent UK “Ah no; address it to Care of The Groaning Platter, Morpork Street, Ankh-Morpork”.

“Fine, well it has been a pleasure meeting you, for a human you’re almost dwarfish and I can’t say finer than that”.

“Thank you it’s been educational, good bye”. Arya followed the wagons down the hill as instructed and watched the smelting but by comparison it didn’t have the same feeling as being in the seam watching the dwarfs work. It was hot and probably dangerous if the liquid metal got loose but there were dwarfs actually just standing there watching things happen. It wasn’t quite the same.

By walking back the way she’d come she got back to Lancre, collected Rincewind, popped in to say goodbye to Magrat, realised she should have done that the other way round as Rincewind went pale as he realised who and what Magrat was. Arya decided not to enlighten him as to what the witches though she was. Then they mounted up and set off Rimwards.

They didn’t go the same way home. Arya had been asked to pass a letter on to Tiffany Aching on the chalk, so they kept going turnwise at Ohulan Cutash then came down the upper Ankh to Zemphis.

Tiffany was a revelation to Arya, only about a year or two older than her, she found her very easy to talk to. Tiffany explained to her that the role of the witch in a community was to be the careful person, in all the possible meanings of that term and Arya realised that that would never be a role she would fill. As Arya said one night sat under the stars watching the sheep.

“I’m the wolf at the door. I couldn’t do what you do”.

Tiffany, who had opened the letter from Granny with some trepidation, Granny didn’t normally do letters, and read ‘She ain’t a real witch, let her down gently’ felt that now was the time to be kind.

“I’m sure you could, but it would be a big strain. It’s not your nature, not that you’re bad, just a bit of a risk taker, but you can still be useful, so are there any wolves nearby”

And Arya felt and Tiffany looked at a body sat very immobile for a few minutes and then Arya shook herself and said “Not any more”.

“See, now that was you looking after me and in another situation you’ll look after others if you need to”.

“But I couldn’t keep it up day in day out”.

“No, so I suppose that makes you a sort of temporary emergency witch”.

“Like the Ankh-Morpork Watch have special constables for big emergencies”.

“Exactly”, Tiffany had no idea how the watch worked but she knew that this was the moment to agree with Arya so that in Arya’s head she felt it was so.

So Arya and Rincewind, who’d found Tiffany so unthreatening he’d even sat and talked to her voluntarily, a tribute to Tiffany’s skills; turned down the Ankh and went back to what Arya was starting to think of as ‘home’.

When they got back they found Marcus and the crew had also completed a trip and both had a good time and made a profit.

A week after she got home a scroll was delivered to the Platter. On opening it Arya found a certificate announcing that she was an associate dwarf for life. On questioning her friends the Glodsonson’s she was told that this amounted to a ten percent off ticket if she ever visited the show mines in Űberwald. Uncharacteristically Arya had it framed and displayed in her room.


	15. Dwarf Sex

Angua looked at Carrot, “you’re sure you don’t mind”.

“No”.

“You see that’s what bothers me, a one word no can cover up so many buts”.

“Not with me it doesn’t, that’s the dwarf in me, what you see or hear is what you’re getting”.

“I’m not sure I believe that in so many ways, starting with the idea that what you see is what you get with a dwarf”.

“Why”,

“Because a dwarf’s first option is not to say, or let you see anything”.

“That’s what outsiders think”.

“So in the shaft, when there’s no one but dwarfs around everything gets to hang out and everyone does their own thing”.

Carrot had gone redder than his hair

“You don’t have to answer that one, because I know the answer will be an incoherent collection of ums and ers. That’s your dwarf heritage an inability to discuss sex, a big aspect of everyone’s lives and yes that’s the dwarf in you”.

“I don’t think so”.

Angua wrapped herself round Carrot in a suitably erotic manner and obtained the result she was expecting and wanting, “Now tell me what just happened”.

“You know what just happened”.

“But I want you to say it”.

“Why”

“Because it worries me that if you can’t talk about it a lot more directly than you do, at some point I’m going to do something you don’t like and you won’t be able to say no because you won’t want to use the specific words about exactly what I did that you don’t want me to. Almost as bad maybe there’s something you want us to do, or me to do to you and it’ll never happen because you can’t actually use the words to tell me”.

“I thought we were OK, are you trying to say somethings wrong”.

“No, because I wouldn’t try I’d say Carrot don’t do that again, I didn’t enjoy it, wouldn’t I”

“Yes. Can I say something”.

“Of course”.

“To get back to the subject of Arya coming round and spending the evening with us, and there probably being a bit of wine drunk and Arya can be what even you call ‘brutally frank’ even when she’s sober so the subject will probably come up; I really don’t mind. I may be going to sit here and say nothing while the two of you chatter away but I’m alright with that”.

“And what when Arya asks you a direct question, because I’d be surprised if we get through the evening without it happening”.

“Then I’ll go red and you’ll both have a little laugh about it, but I know you’ll ‘make it worth my while’ later and I’ll probably go um and er a bit and then you’ll provide the answer”.

“What if I don’t know the answer what if it’s something I want to know as well”.

“Have you two planned something, am I being set up to answer questions I might want to avoid”.

There was a bang on the door, Angua got up to answer it quite quickly, “Ah that’ll be Arya now”.

“How convenient, just when I asked a question you don’t want to answer”.

“Timing is everything darling. Hi Arya, come in, you’ve brought nibbles, good because I’ve got the wine”.

Carrot looked at Arya Stark as she came through the door, his mind wanted to use the words blew in, but that implied a breeze, Arya despite her petite frame and slender beauty was more like a tornado. The moment she arrived everything went round in circles and ended up upside down and when she left you realised you were probably never going to just, ‘put it all back like it was before’.

Arya’s first words demonstrated that Carrot was not as simple minded as some thought, “So Ang are we ready to pin Carrot to the bed and get to the bottom of dwarf sex”.

Carrot looked at Angua, who had the decency to look embarrassed although she didn’t blush, “So I was right this has been arranged”.

“Yes, and let me make it clear that Arya is as usual exaggerating a little, we’re not actually planning to physically pin you to the bed and do anything”.

Arya’s grin was a mile wide “Aren’t we, oh poop, I brought extra rubbers just in case”.

“Arya you’re not helping, Carrot and I were just discussing his issues with discussing intimate specifics and I think we were making some progress. I did say we needed to be subtle”.

“Then you picked the wrong girl Ang, I don’t do subtle. Don’t worry it will work, he can’t, what were your words, ‘distract me by getting to the action part’ before the conversations finished if I’m here; or if he does then I am going to need that pack of three, you may know you can only get pregnant for five days a year and you know exactly which five days, but I can’t, tonight might be the night”.

Carrot had sat down on the settee and was starting to curl up into a foetal ball.

“Arya shut up, you’re frightening him”.

“Sorry”, Arya walked over and sat down by Carrot, “I’m sorry, maybe it’s because I’m not getting any, but talking about sex gets me a bit excited and then it’s like the real thing and I just get more and more explicit until it all explodes. You know that however much I do think you’re an absolute hunk and also so lovely and squishy inside that I’d never actually touch you because Angua would have ripped my head off before I’d got your pants down”.

“That’s not really a very good reason Arya, it might be better if you’d told him it was because you respected our relationship and wouldn’t want to break it up”. Angua’s hairstyle didn’t produce a ruff, but Arya could tell that if it had she would be brisling.

“No, I wouldn’t want to break you two up in any way, no that would be really horrible of me, I just can’t see why we couldn’t share him, there’s so much of him”.

“Angua have you told Arya everything about, er…. our personal activities”.

“No”.

“No she hasn’t silly, Angua is perfectly normally reticent about what you two actually do when having sex, it’s me that’s odd and I know I’m odd, because I didn’t see why you get all in tizzwozz about talking about it. I’ve ballsed this up haven’t I”.

“Well a few minutes of absolute silence might help”, Arya made a ‘zipping my lips’ sign towards Angua and pointedly sat on the far end of the settee so Carrot had room to uncurl without touching her.

Angua gave Arya her best ‘sit and stay’ look, the one that had hardened criminals trying to hide their hands in embarrassment at getting caught. Arya even manged to look slightly sheepish, which surprised Angua. “I’ll go and get the wine; you two can discuss the weather while I’m gone” and she departed for the kitchen.

Arya was thus seriously surprised when Carrot opened the conversation about a different topic.

“Right you don’t have to be detective of the year to work out that Angua wants to ask me a question about…………Sex, there I’ve said it and for some reason she needs you here to help out. That bothers me a bit, that she hasn’t just asked me”.

“Oh she has, but you’re obviously so embarrassed about the subject that when she does you change the subject by moving swiftly on to actual sex”. Arya could see the lights going on in Carrot’s head “and you know what I’m talking about, don’t you”.

“Yes”.

At this point Angua came back in with two glasses of white wine and a small beer. Arya found it amusing that Carrot was the one man she knew who drank less than her. “So how is precipitation over the Ramtops”.

“Actually Arya and I were discussing....Sex, there, that’s twice”.

“And it got easier the second time didn’t it”.

“Yes”

“Well then don’t let me stop you” and Angua having handed out the glasses sat down opposite the sofa in something that might have been called a chair or might have been called a basket, depending on your point of view and your bravery. Angua was surprised when it was Carrot that kept talking.

“I’ve established by questioning the witness that the felony is my failure to discuss the sexual practices of my foster parents and their people”.

“Carrot please let’s not do ‘procedural’ tonight, can’t we just talk like ordinary people and it’s hardly a felony, at worse a minor misdemeanour”.

“I think that’s the problem, in this context you’re the ordinary person, I’m very inhibited and Arya is so open we could metaphorically both fall into her without touching the sides”.

Arya giggled.

“See, there’s obviously a joke there that I’ve missed entirely. Now if we’re going to discuss the subject”.

“Come on Carrot you’ve said it twice, three times is the binding”

“Dwarf Sex!”, the words came out explosively as though Carrot had a stammer “I need to make myself feel comfortable as best I can, so ‘I was proceeding down the shaft one evening’”.

Arya tittered again.

“Arya, shut up, he’s trying really hard, come on Carrot you can do it”.

“I was proceeding down the shaft one evening when I came upon a very large group of dwarfs engaged in copulation in a what is for them a culturally normal manner, but which contravenes the Ordinances of Ankh-Morpork in a number of ways, viz: Article 16, engaging in overtly sexual practices in a public place: Article 29 Incest: Article 42 engaging in sex without obtaining the explicit consent of the recipient of your attentions: Article 6b repealed, unnatural acts concerning gender. When arrested and taken into custody a number of sexually offensive weapons were removed from the female protagonists”.

Carrot stopped and breathed in deeply, “There I’ve said it”.

“Is that all”.

“Isn’t it enough”.

“Well it doesn’t bother me, well maybe the incest a bit, even though actually you’ve still left me wondering about some of the fine print”.

Angua jumped in, “Is this something that happened to you and you didn’t like it. Oh Carrot I’m sorry am I dragging up”

“No you’re not, not in the least. It was one of the reasons my parents sent me back to the humans. Dwarfs are acutely conscious of the way humans would view things so I was sent to the surface before anyone suggested it was time to ‘wedge my pitprop into the seam’”.

Arya was clearly supressing another giggle “Do they really say that”.

“Yes, amongst themselves dwarfs are rather keen on crude euphemisms, but please don’t use it on one in the Platter, because I’m not sure how they’ll respond to you and I’ll catch all manner of trouble, because they’ll know full where you learned it. I’ve been a bit stupid not telling Angua because I’m pretty sure she would have understood how important it is to keep this to ourselves. I’m going to have to trust you Arya, to say nothing, and that’s something I think you honestly struggle to do”.

“Yes, I do about things I think people should talk about, but I think I can keep a secret, I’ve a few of my own you don’t know about, so if this is important to you ‘mum’s the word’ and not in the incestuous way”.

“Wow” Angua looked the pair on the setee “Well now I’m beginning to wish I never asked. Arya may not be bothered, but I am, I’m not sure I can deal with Dwarfs in the same way again. I mean Cheery”

“I’ve never discussed it with Cheery, it may be why she came down rimwards, but it’s unlikely, more likely it’s just something she won’t ever discuss with you”.

“And I don’t think I’m going to ask. They say we all have our limits and I’m finding some of mine”.

“Dogs and wolves Angua, they don’t fuss over incest”.

“No in fact it’s quite probable in a pack scenario, but they’re wild animals who ruthlessly let the weak die, or even cull them. Werewolves are different the human bit means we’re not that brutal so we need to have the incest laws or taboos to avoid the same results as humans”.

“I think I need to clarify something”.

“Go, on Carrot”.

“Dwarfs are just as opposed to incest as humans when it comes to breeding, what I’ve described isn’t breeding that’s something very different. That’s done in the normal human way one to one, in private between consenting sexually mature dwarves and one of each sex obviously, but it’s very definitely only done if you want a child. Sex is something different entirely”.

Arya butted in, “You said sex there and didn’t even pause, I told you three’s the binding”.

Carrot blushed slightly, but only slightly.

Angua got off the furniture and topped glasses up, “OK, now I’m a bit less bothered, but still quite confused. I think the next thing you need to do is explain what a dwarf means by sex as opposed to breeding. Can you manage that”.

“Well I think I can answer your question, sex is about bonding the team by having fun together, which is why they all do it together, just like working shoulder to shoulder, in the swing of things”.

“With singing”.

“Oh yes, different tunes, slower rhythm, you wouldn’t make enough profit with a pick singing sex songs and everything would happen too fast for the women at work rate”.

“Is this a regular practice, or just special occasions like holy days”.

“Oh no, sixteen hours at the face you need a few interruptions or it would get boring, usually every two hours or so, but if someone did miss their stroke and got grazed rather than seriously hurt, they might stick in an extra one as a way of saying sorry”.

“Have you ever heard of bonobos”

“Sorry Arya, who, what”.

“I’ll take that as a no then, they’re apes, like the librarian, but black not orange and bit more ground based. They’re a bit like dwarfs, we shake hands, they manipulate each other’s genitals”.

“Oh”.

“Sounds to me there’s not that much difference in some ways”.

“There’s probably one big one. This is the ultimate secret because it reflects on us in so many ways”.

Carrot paused and Angua and Arya faced him “Go on”.

“How do you tell if a dwarfs male or female, a normal dwarf that is, not Cheery or one of the others who’s ‘come out’”.

“You can’t”.

“Well actually I can”.

“How”.

“How do you think I’m a werewolf”.

“Ah”.

“Yes and some beings, including humans, get a bit funny if you tell them how they smell. If two werewolves meet the first thing they do is have a sniff and the second is be quite open about whether we like what we smell or not. I don’t know if it matters, but we don’t breed with werewolves we don’t like the smell of”.

“That sort of applies to humans”.

“Not in the same way, you don’t like someone to smell because they haven’t washed. We want, no need them to smell, but smell right”.

“And do I”.

“Yes you do, even through that hideous aftershave you use. I have to concentrate to find the real Carrot, but that’s how good my nose is”.

“Ah”, mentally Carrot was already throwing the aftershave down the drain.

“So having improved your love life a bit there Carrot, back to the subject of dwarfs and the fact I can’t tell them apart, not having Angua’s nose”.

“Well dwarfs can’t either and we don’t do direct questions so you need to have had sex, to have found out if a dwarf is the right sex to mate with”.

“So everyone knocks off for a sex break like we’d stop for a beer or Lady Sybil for a nice cup of tea, removes some clothing”.

“Lifts the skirts of their top clothing and drops a flap in their breeches, too many sharp edges underground to take things off, just open up a route, ‘clear the road’ is the expression. Every other dwarf takes one step back and one step left and it’s ‘pitprop in the seam’ time”.

“As random as that”.

“Yes”.

“So you work out..”

“Whether it’s coal or iron ore and proceed accordingly”.

“And remember”.

“Oh definitely”.

“So if a woman steps back…”.

“Every dwarf has a pit-prop in their pocket”.

“I’ve heard something like that before”.

“I think Polly Perks must have heard a dwarf one day and not quite understood, they say ‘every soldier has a field marshal’s baton in their knapsack, which is patently rubbish, but that’s the military for you”.

“Polly Perks, I don’t think the name means anything to me”.

“First publicly female human soldier, she made do with a sock in her trousers, typically human, copy a dwarf but go for the soft option”.

“You know you can be bit speciesist at times Carrot”.

“Yes and in a pro Dwarf way”.

“Some might point fingers at that but I’m not going to. I told a couple of dwarfs I spoke to in the Platter once, I’m not necessarily that impressed by my own species”.

“That would have confused them, every dwarf is fiercely defensive about being a dwarf”.

“Hence no discussions with humans about, what do you call them”.

“Orgies”.

“That’s not very euphemistic”.

“It was until humans copied the term, in Dwarfish it means teabreak”.

“Well very day’s a schoolday”.

“Not that I’d mention this in a school, well not a human one”.

“Maybe they should, what’s that expression Leonard of Quirm uses, ‘thinking outside the box’”.

“So just one final question, when, as it must at random, a mating situation occurs during a teabreak”.

“Everyone knows about the risk of flooding in mines”.

“To which in a real deep seam the answer is a pump, which can’t be the literal answer here”.

“Dwarves have been having orgies since way before they started going deep. In the beginning mining was all drifts that would drain naturally so all you needed was oilskins to stop the drips running down the back of your neck”.

“Oilskins sounds a bit rough to the touch”.

“There you go a soft human again, the other term for rough is just ‘enhanced stimulation’”.

“Do Dwarfs do BDSM”.

“The long night festival in midwinter, we take a whole day off work for it. It’s why when Angua’s in oestrus…”.

“Erhm”.

“Sorry Angua, you’re getting left out of the conversation a bit”.

“Yes well, you having got Carrot talking I didn’t want to interrupt, but I might observe the hour and the fact that two of us are on the beat just before sunrise tomorrow”.

“Wow, yes, sorry”.

“No it’s been very informative Arya and I don’t think I’d have achieved it without you”.

“Well I’m glad then, but you’re right I’d better get off home”.

“Like I said, this had to be between the three of us”.

“Oh don’t worry Carrot, it will be” and after some quick hugs Arya was on her way home and Angua and Carrot went off to bed, perchance to dream.


	16. A job to be done

After the revelations of their first social evening Arya was actually quite nervous about talking to Angua about borrowing, but a note from Granny ‘Ain’t you done it yet’ forced her hand, she picked a full moon when Carrot was on duty and Angua was off and they could meet without it looking suspicious. Angua came round in time for an early dinner and looked a bit surprised when Arya dragged her upstairs long before moonrise.

“You seem to be in hurry Arya”.

“Yes well timing matters but I don’t want to rush you so I need to get on with it”.

“So”.

“Right, you know I went to see a witch”.

“Yes”.

“Well she taught me to borrow safely, particularly safely for me”

“Borrowing”.

“When I appear in your head”.

“Right”.

“Well she sort of did it on the condition that I tried a couple of things with you”.

“Ah and suppose I don’t want you to”.

“Then we don’t, but I think you need to because if I can others can and you need to know that”.

“Now you’re worrying me a bit”.

“Just a bit, but I think you might need to be worried”.

“So what do I do”.

“Nothing, sit still and let me try something”.

“OK then” and Angua sat on the chair in Arya’s room and Arya went and lay on the bed. She didn’t feel she needed the notice with Angua in the room. Angua watched her go very still, then felt something tickle in her head.

“Can you hear me”.

“Yes”.

“And I can see I’m not moving my lips so it does work even though you haven’t changed yet”.

“If by that you mean you can communicate with me, then yes”

“Oh it’s more than that, just sit still”.

So Angua did and the tickle became a push and she found herself lifting her left arm, then standing up. Instinctively she resisted, there was an urge to sit down so she walked forward towards the bed. She saw Arya twitch and her eyes jerk open.

Arya spoke “Wo! well that answers the important question for you. I think you’re safe”.

“You were manipulating me”.

“Yes, borrowing goes further than just communication. That’s what I learned with Granny, it’s complete control over an animal, so it was important to know if someone could take control of a werewolf in their human form and the answers clearly not if you don’t want them to, unless they’re a lot more powerful than me. When you decided to walk forward it was like I was passing out, you were crushing my mind and I needed to escape fast to avoid getting trapped in your head but under your control”.

“So another witch could do the same to me”.

“Yes but they wouldn’t, but someone else who learned the method might, but I’m convinced you’d be more than match for them”.

“What about when I’m in wolf form”.

Arya looked out of the window “Give it five minutes”.

They did, the results were the same Angua could be controlled only so long as she went along with it. Arya sat up on the bed having pulled out of Angua’s mind in a hurry, sweat on her brow. The wolf got up from where she was lying on the floor and came over and licked Arya’s hand. Arya got control of her breathing, calmed herself down and felt back for Angua’s mind.

“Are you all right”.

“Yes and I’m sure you’re safe from intrusions and control”.

“Good. I’m perfectly happy having you in my mind now though so don’t go”.

“No that’s fine I’m just a bit overexcited, I’ll relax in a minute or two”.

They lay there for a while.

“There is one thought”.

“Yes”.

“It could be useful to just make contact to pass a message when I’m in human form”.

“Yes it could”.

“But it could be a bit embarrassing if you arrived at the wrong moment”.

“Like you were in the privy”.

“I was thinking more with Carrot”

“Oh yes, or no, you know what I mean”.

“Yes, we’re good friends but I’m not that good”.

“No definitely not”.

“Good just so we’re both agreed on that”.

“Definitely”.

“But if I had a bad night, like the first time we did it, could you keep me under control”.

“I could probably help”.

“That will be good, can we make this a regular thing”.

“Of course”.

“What did Tiffany say to you about be capable of being the careful one for short spells”.

“Mmmm”.

“I think that makes you my safety witch”.

“Yes maybe it does”.

“Now can I smell chicken”.

“Yes it’s under the bed”.

There followed a period involving a lot of crunching, biting and tearing

“You know I didn’t like raw meat, Steak Tartare and the like, but I seem to be acquiring the taste”.

“Steak Tartare would be nice next time”.

“Yes it would, and have you tried sushi”.

“That new fad from the Agatean empire”.

“Yes, raw fish”.

“Next month”

“Why not”

Sadly the answer to the last question was the smell and the uncooperative owner of the Platter, but you can’t have everything.


	17. A visit to UU

Arya went down to breakfast and found Rincewind already in the taproom

“Morning”.

“Hello, are you busy today”

“Nothing I can’t alter”.

“Good because the Archchancellor would like you to come over to the University”.

“Any particular reason”.

“I think the fact you’ve been here several months and nothing untoward has happened means he thinks he can take the risk”.

“Presumably that means you get a day off”.

“Well part of one”.

“Good” Arya had tried sending a stiffly worded letter to the Archchancellor about the hours Rincewind was ‘working’ in particular his lack of free days. It had been ignored. With hindsight she realised that ‘stiffly worded’ wasn’t he way to deal with the Archchancellor, Granny had been right.

“Any tips, what to wear, things to do or not to do, or say”.

“Not really, bring a small hand of bananas if you like”.

“For the Archchancellor”.

“No the librarian”.

“Any particular reason”.

“I think you’ll find it worth your while”.

Arya could see that Rincewind was enjoying a minor moment of power in their relationship so since she had dragged him half way across a continent and into the arms of several witches and he was a pretty good travelling companion having no particularly bad or irritating personal habits apart from his habitual nervousness she decided not to spoil his moment.

\------------------------------

So about an hour later Arya found herself looking up at the Tower of Magic and making suitably impressed vocalisations before being taken into the building and into a large room occupied by two wizards, one very large, robust and middle aged, the other young and bespectacled. Arya briefly considered flirting with the younger one, but remembering comments made by Rincewind, realised it would be a futile effort and might upset him.

“Arya Stark meet the Archchancellor, Mustrum Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons, the Reader in Non-volatile Intelligence”.

“Good morning Gentlemen, what can I do to help you”.

“Quite possibly nothing Miss Stark”

“Arya please”.

“Very well Arya. We may be able to provide you with some information that may or may not be useful, but primarily I thought it would just be polite to say hello”.

“Now you feel that I’m unlikely to hop back to my own universe taking a chunk of the locality with me”.

“Yes, well quite. Duty of Care to my students and all that”.

“Not to mention your own survival. Rincewind however appears to be your sacrificial lamb.”

“Now Steady on, we don’t do sacrifice here, that would be Sarduk over in Djellibeybi. Rincewind is just, well he has an unusual skill, if something goes wrong he always seems to be able to get away in time”.

“Fastest sheep in the flock when the wolf strikes, then. You do know my family badge is the wolf”.

“Actually I do, which brings me back to why you’re here. Librarian! where has that man got to”.

The bellowed job title produced a thump as the door was opened and a large orang entered the room carrying a large tome. He approached the table in the middle of the room and put the book up onto it then walked over to Arya.

“Ook”.

“Ook, oook”.

“Ook”

Bananas were handed over, the librarian peeled two and handed one back to Arya

“OOk”

“Ooook”

The pair of them ate in silence, while the others looked on in some surprise. When they’d both finished they hugged, the Librarian gave a final “Ook” and left.

“I didn’t realise you’d met”.

“In the Mended Drum, I made a small tactical error and might have had to kill someone to get out of it. The librarian very helpfully lifted me from the fray and removed me via the rooftops. We didn’t discuss his job at the time so when Rincewind said bring bananas I wondered but wasn’t certain”.

“Oh”.

“So you have a book”.

The Archchancellor pushed the volume across to her turning it so she could read the title ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’.

“You seemed to figure in it quite frequently. I must say if half of it’s true then you are a very remarkable young lady”.

“Thank you obviously without reading it, I can’t be certain but the title is familiar and I was questioned by the author before she started writing. I left Westeros before she finished so I’m quite surprised you have a copy”.

“And have had for two hundred years”.

“Oh”.

“The reason it didn’t come to our attention sooner is that it is regarded as fiction”.

“Oh”.

“But the librarian will read anything; literally, your laundry list one day Ponder’s latest paper on the structure of time and reality the next. He brought the book to me yesterday”.

“Which I suspect I’m going to have to seriously rework”.

“You have tenure Ponder, rework it all you like”.

“It’s not as simple as that Archchancellor I don’t think you have grasped the core of the problem”.

“Oh I have Ponder and like a used apple core I’ve discarded it by throwing it over my shoulder and worrying about more concrete things like what’s for lunch”.

“So my world appears to you to be an aged fiction”.

“Which means that it is possible that somewhere else that is how we are regarded. The whole of The Disc may be viewed as just a story and on a spherical world such as you have described, perhaps as a very far-fetched story, we may be the subject of laughter and derision”.

“Ponder calm down, so what if we are, that’s there, I don’t have to meet them and be laughed at, I live here and no one here laughs at me; Do They!”.

“No Archchancellor”

“So where’s the problem”.

“Well, and please don’t take this the wrong way, it’s not a personal reflection, she’s stood in front of you, it’s Miss Stark”.

“Arya please”.

“And why is she a problem, she seems a nice polite and quite attractive young lady”.

“Because she’s here and she shouldn’t be”.

“Why not”.

“Because she should be a fictional figure in a book, or back on the world in the alternative universe that is represented by the book”.

“What does the book say happens to me”.

“You sail off into the West to find out what’s beyond the Sunset Sea”.

“And that’s where it ends”.

“Yes, that’s literally the last page”.

“No mention of sailing to Oldtown, getting attacked by a sea serpent, storms”.

“No”.

“The point is there are all sorts of possibilities that seriously tamper with the concepts of real and imagined. This is literally cosmically significant and potentially catastrophically dangerous. If we don’t know what’s real and what’s just someone else’s fiction, how do we know whether we have self-determination or everything is predestined by some outside agency”.

“Ah you’re worried about one of the Gods interfering”.

“Not our Gods Archchancellor no. This being is better described as an author”.

“And the difference and it’s practical relevance to lunch”.

“I’m not sure we could worship an author even if we wanted to. If an author is writing us like a story then unless he allows us to conceive of him we don’t know he exists”.

“So to be having this conversation our author, if he exists, must have chosen to reveal his existence to us”.

“Yes Arya, you’ve got it, raising all sorts of questions of why and what are we meant to do next. Traditional gods either manifest or have prophets, neither of which appears to have happened here”.

“Well unless Arya is our prophet”.

“Put here to make us think the unthinkable, find the book etc.”

“Now look anyone starts to try worshiping me they’re going to be sadly disappointed and possibly if they push the point injured”. Arya put her hand on Needle to emphasise the point.

“No one in this building will worship you on principle”.

“But outside, the Ankh-Morpork mob can be notoriously fickle and it isn’t renowned for its nuanced metaphysical discrimination, it tends to go in for wild adulation or violent and terminal disapproval”.

“So we don’t tell them. The only people aware of this are in this room correct”.

“Well there’s the librarian”.

“I think we can regard him as an unlikely source of a leak, the translation of what we’re discussing into Orang will take a while I suspect. How is his dictionary coming on”.

“He’s stuck at Ook”.

“Precisely, so as long as we keep quiet nothing goes wrong”.

“But what if the Author writes one of us as a babbler, someone who can’t keep his or her mouth shut”.

“Well if he does I can only think of one likely candidate” and here the Archchancellor glared at Ponder, “but more to the point what can we do about it and the answers nothing. It’s really quite simple, either we have agency in our lives in which case I’m going for lunch, or we don’t in which case I’m waiting to see what your author writes for me to do next and there’s no point in me worrying about it”.

“But what if you go for lunch because the authors written it, you don’t know”.

“As long as I get my lunch I don’t care”.

“But the whole point of the UU is to experiment and find things out, to acquire knowledge, to know things. It appears we’ve just abolished our very reason for existing. It could be argued the whole structure of the human brain is about finding patterns, that might now never exist”.

“Ponder calm down or I’ll have to give you some of the bursars dried frog pills. Every experiment has error margins, the accuracy of the instruments, that’s why we repeat them to help quantitate the inaccuracy isn’t it”.

“Yes”.

“Well this is just another possible error”.

“But”.

“No Ponder I know what you’re going to say and I don’t care. It’s Lunchtime and Arya looks as thin as a rake so I am taking her to high table where I am going to offer her the opportunity to correct the situation over several courses. Are you coming my dear”.

Arya wasn’t sure she’d followed the whole argument but she was aware that the banana had generated a bit of a sugar rush and she was now feeling hungry, dwarf porridge breakfast or no “Thank you Archchancellor…”.

“Oh just call me Mustrum”.

“Thank you Mustrum, I’d be delighted” and the two of them left.

Ponder looked at Rincewind, Rincewind shrugged, the librarian came back in and removed the book. As he went out he said “Ook”.

“Well he doesn’t seem bothered”.

“No”.

“So lunch”

“It’s not as though it’s an unusual action at this time of day, something that might make you suspect life wasn’t normal”.

“No it isn’t, but the Archchancellor’s right Professor Stibbons you worry too much, look at the Dean it doesn’t do him any good”.

“True” and the two wizards followed their Archchancellor out towards the refectory.

\----------------------

At one point during lunch a small thought did pop into Arya’s mind, “Mustrum does this morning’s meeting have any impact on my getting back home, assuming I wanted to try”.

“Theoretically it’s massive”.

“Practically”.

“Totally meaningless”.

“Thank you that’s what I thought. Does Rincewind have to keep following me around”.

“Probably not, unless you want him to”.

“He’s always welcome but he shouldn’t feel obliged”.

“That’s settled then, more plum duff”.

“Yes Please”.


	18. The Scythe’s the limit

It had snowed overnight, to Arya not a lot, just about a foot and as a result even the less salubrious bits of Morpork temporarily looked pretty. It soon became apparent that this was not a regular event in Ankh-Morpork as traffic first ground to a halt with streets blocked and then as the snow was packed under wheels, got going, but in a somewhat out of control manner with wagons sliding suddenly sideways. Arya was unimpressed, she’d known far more snow in Winterfell so when Rerpf suggested she stay in for the day she declined and set out onto the streets.

Sadly this proved to be a serious mistake as she had barely gone a dozen yards before she was hit by an out of control wagon. For Arya there was some screaming, she tried to move sideways suddenly and started to slip and then something hit her head and everything went black.

For those around her still in the world of the conscious Arya’s body went under the wagon, where it may have received another glancing blow from a wheel or a horse whoof. Blind Hugh was the first to reach her, abandoning any pretence of not being able to see he shouted at a passing watchman “Go and fetch Rerpf from the Platter she’s one of his guests”. The watchman did as instructed while Hugh rolled an eyelid back to confirm Arya was unconscious and checked as delicately as he could for any obvious breakages.

Rerpf arrived with a pot boy and between the three of them they got Arya back inside the tavern and up to her bed. Dr Lawn was summoned and pronounced that she was unconscious from a blow to the head, but otherwise unharmed. Nothing was broken so there was no need for an Igor She was to be watched by one of Rerpf’s girls, but otherwise left to recover at her own rate. Rerpf promptly became very agitated, Arya was a very good customer so he was genuinely frighted to lose her, but he was also aware that she had friends in the Watch and was nervous that if anything did happen he might be held responsible simply because she was on his premises at the time. Dr Lawn was adamant, she was not to be moved any more.

\------------------------------------------

Meanwhile inside Arya’s head something that would have had Rerpf and the doctor very worried was going on.

Arya realised that she couldn’t really feel anything, no bodily sensations or responses. Then slowly, in front of her face, appeared a pale grey horse being ridden by a cloaked and cowled figure, perched on the horse’s head was a very small equally cloaked and cowled figure. What worried Arya was that both figures were carrying scythes. The symbology was fairly obvious, she was about to be reaped.

“Is this it then, war, dragons, daggers, sea serpents and it’s all going to end with a bang on the head from a passing wagon”.

The horse stopped, what seemed like a few feet away, the small cowled figure hopped down to the ground and ran off. As it did it revealed itself to be a small skeleton with distinctly rodent teeth. The large figure on the horse clearly had skeletal hands. When it raised its head slightly there might have been a skull, but Arya found herself looking into a pair of very blue/white lights where the eyes should have been. The light seemed to go through her, or at least into her.

“Well”

I'M NOT SURE.

“Pardon”.

"I SAID, I'M NOT SURE, I’M SURE YOU'RE NOT REALLY DEAF SO I PRESUME THAT MEANS YOU ARE CONFUSED ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENING.

“Well I have a horrible suspicion that you’re here to kill me”.

OH DEAR ME NO, I DON'T KILL PEOPLE.

Arya relaxed slightly, but not for long.

THEY DIE ALL BY THEMSELVES, IT'S JUST MY JOB TO SEPARATE THEIR SOULS FROM THEIR BODIES SO THAT THEY CAN PROCEED INTO WHATEVER AFTERLIFE IS APPROPRIATE.

“So there is an afterlife”.

THAT I THINK IS UP TO YOU, YOUR BELIEF'S SEEM TO BE MOST IMPORTANT AT THIS POINT.

“Oh” Arya hadn’t consider that possibility, “So if I believe in a land fit for heroes, wine, song etc. it’s what I get”.

POSSIBLY, YOU SEE I'VE NEVER BEEN MYSELF SO THAT MAY BE THE CASE. A LOT OF PEOPLE I'VE SEEN SEEM TO BELIEVE SO. OR THEY MAY BE COMPLETELY WRONG AND IT MAY BE SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

“And the small version”.

FOR RATS, THERE ARE SO MANY OF THEM I REALLY HAVE TO SUB-CONTRACT OUT.

“Ah”.

NOT VERY CHATTY ARE YOU, SOME PEOPLE GET POSITIVELY VOLUBLE AS THOUGH THEY CAN TALK ME INTO CHANGING THE RESULT, EITHER OF THEM DYING OR WHERE THEY'RE GOING.

“And can you”.

NO.

“So are you going to get on with it”.

YOU SOUND ALMOST EAGER.

“Not in the least, but if it’s inevitable I don’t see any point in lingering”.

QUITE AN ADMIRABLE SENTIMENT, BUT ACTUALLY I'M NOT SURE.

“That I’m going to die”.

WELL MORE WHETHER I'M SUPPOSED TO ATTEND WHEN YOU DO. YOU'RE NOT FROM AROUND HERE ARE YOU.

“Possibly not, there has been talk that I may come from another universe”.

THAT WOULD EXPLAIN THINGS THEN. WELL I'LL BE GETTING ALONG.

“Wait”.

YOU KNOW THAT'S THE FIRST TIME ANYONE'S EVER SAID THAT TO ME. USUALLY IF I PASS BY THEY'RE REALLY QUITE GLAD TO SEE ME GO.

“It’s just that if I’m going to die it might be nice to have you around, just sort of treat me as one of yours, rather than leaving me here alone. I wouldn’t know what to do by myself so I think it would be nice to have the appropriate local services”.

I'M NOT SURE IF I SHOULD THOUGH SUPPOSE I DID AND SOMETHING DIFFERENT TURNED UP FROM YOUR UNIVERSE, A BIT LATE WITH YOU BEING SO FAR AWAY AND I'D GOT IT ALL WRONG, THAT WOULD BE QUITE UPSETTING.

“I think if I’m dead I’ll be beyond being upset”.

NO I MEAN FOR ME, TO THINK I'D GOT IT WRONG.

Arya filed that idea away for future consideration. She also noticed that the death of rats had returned and climbed back onto the horse.

WELL GOOD DAY MISS STARK, I MUST GO. THINGS TO DO, PEOPLE TO SEE AND SO ON. COME ON BINKY.

And before Arya could formulate another protest the figure vanished.

\------------------------------------------

To the rest of the city it was several hours later and one of the serving girls was in with her when Arya opened her eyes. “Shit my head hurts”.

“Oh Miss Arya, you just lay still, you’ve had a nasty bang on the head from a wagon wheel and then possibly a horse kicked you as well. We’ve been ever so worried, the doctor said just for a while he thought we might lose you”.

Strange memories were flashing across Arya’s mind. She decided not to articulate them to the girl, or probably anyone else, so yes for now she’d lie back and have a little rest and next time it snowed she might just stay inside and drink a small beer until it cleared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear it appears we don't have the technology for someone to speak in small capitals. Please be assured he isn't shouting.
> 
> I really want to write some more, there are a couple of little things ready but I need a plot/story line for a longer story; suggestions welcome.


End file.
